


The Butterfly Lovers [GEN 7]

by TheMidnightSorceress



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, High School AU, Love Story, M/M, Zoldyck Family - Freeform, a kiss or two, and peaches, happy feelings, hxhbb, oh and egg salad, rumors and reputations, slight bullying, zoldyck family and their shenangins as a yakuza family in a modern day setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMidnightSorceress/pseuds/TheMidnightSorceress
Summary: There is an unspoken rule amongst the students of Hunter Preparatory Highschool. If and when something or someone should be avoided—avoid them. At all costs. Luckily, this rule only applies to Illumi Zoldyck, eldest son of the infamous Zoldyck Family, ringleaders behind the yakuza. Or at least they used to be. Not anymore thanks to their falling out scandal. In a desperate need to part ways with their criminal past, and Zeno’s lifetime imprisonment, the Zoldyck Family has sworn to live by a clean path—by running a dojo. The only criminal activity they pursue now is charging overly priced judo lessons. But paying higher than average prices for ‘learning how to kick your opponent legally in their no-no square’ classes isn’t what encourages classmates to avoid eye contact with Illumi—or him altogether. Rumors run rampant at school—going missing, accumulating debt, indefinitely on the run, anyone who befriends a Zoldyck ends up living a life full of misery! Illumi’s silent demeanor and cold eyes only enforce the rumors that it is best to never get on his bad side in fear of what might happen....(full description in chapter)





	The Butterfly Lovers [GEN 7]

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my submission for the HXHBB 2019! Enjoy! XD

[GEN 7}

Title: The Butterfly Lovers

  
There is an unspoken rule amongst the students of Hunter Preparatory Highschool. If and when something or someone should be avoided—avoid them. At all costs. Luckily, this rule only applies to Illumi Zoldyck, eldest son of the infamous Zoldyck Family, ringleaders behind the yakuza. Or at least they used to be. Not anymore thanks to their falling out scandal. In a desperate need to part ways with their criminal past, and Zeno’s lifetime imprisonment, the Zoldyck Family has sworn to live by a clean path—by running a dojo. The only criminal activity they pursue now is charging overly priced judo lessons. But paying higher than average prices for ‘learning how to kick your opponent legally in their no-no square’ classes isn’t what encourages classmates to avoid eye contact with Illumi—or him altogether. Rumors run rampant at school—going missing, accumulating debt, indefinitely on the run, anyone who befriends a Zoldyck ends up living a life full of misery! Illumi’s silent demeanor and cold eyes only enforce the rumors that it is best to never get on his bad side in fear of what might happen. But in truth, Illumi has no connection with any of these unfortunate events happening at school, nor does he mind his quiet yet lonesome high school life. Instead of wanting to join the yakuza like his forefathers, Illumi dreams of living out the rest of his life completely unnoticed and unbothered, just how he likes it. But his plans turn upside down when the most popular boy at school, Oz, wants to be his friend. Suddenly, Illumi’s life is anything but quiet and lonely. It’s more than anything he ever imagined.  
 

* * *

  
_“I wonder what is behind that expression of his. Always silent and reserved. He reminds me of the flight of butterfly wings. Appearing and disappearing. Coming and going. He’s there and yet he isn’t. I want to reach out to him, but the hands can’t touch what the eyes can’t see. I wonder what is behind that expression of his…_  
_“He looks lonely.”_  
 

* * *

  
There were perks to being completely unnoticed and invisible. Advantageous perks like not being involved in pointless dramas or not having the teacher call on you in math class to answer a question you really don’t think would ever apply to you in real life (what kind of crazy loony walks around with 42 watermelons, 75 zucchinis, and asks you the closest route to take to Nebraska only using the Pythagorean Theorem? The correct answer should only be to enroll in their nearest psychiatric ward) or no one silently (and judgmentally) gawking at you as you walk past the lockers in the god forsaken morning hours after waking up and seeing all the people you’d wish, really wish, would fall in a ditch (preferably bottomless) and never see again, all in the first hours of a very, very long day.

  
Illumi Zoldyck, sadly, did not have these advantageous perks. He was the focal point of pointless dramas and rumors. The teachers would call on him periodically to answer many questions about Pythagorean theorems and ludicrously excess amount of watermelons large enough to feed third world countries, and those who didn’t just gave him the stink eye (fair enough, he gave it right back to them). He was attending Hunter Preparatory Highschool, he was a student, his only obligation was to do homework and study and occasionally swallow his pride for brownie points; it wasn’t to be nice.

  
Today at Hunter Preparatory Highschool, a bustling jail academia on the outskirts of Swardani City, dedicated to the city’s youth for them to learn and hone their minds and become fine, fine civilians of an already refined and polished city, home to the elitists and scholars and entrepreneurs of the entire world. Young minds that would surely make a difference in this ever changing world, the discoveries that lay beyond their fingertips, the new frontiers these students would soon tread upon, the wisdom they would soon uncover—

  
“WHO THREW THAT STINK BOMB!?” Coach Ging yelled as a group of rowdy boys ran away, and laughed, as they jumped over the school’s front gates. They threw a home made stink bomb at Ging’s feet and the smoke from the homemade atrocity circled Ging like a fog adamant on not letting him go. The stench followed his every step and he breathed in the ghastly odor when his nose couldn’t take a whiff more. The stench tasted worse than it smelled and innocent bystanders who had none to do with this prank (though some of them already knew it was going to happen, no matter how well-deserved it was to the school’s ruthless and lazy gym coach.) Somehow, beneath the great stink that permeated the air and Ging’s tearing eyes, he saw two boys wearing the most pompous and self-absorbed smirks on their faces that he wanted to rip clean off their faces. “IT WAS YOU LITTLE SHITS!” Ging pointed his finger towards the two high school seniors. One wearing a cross around his neck and the other whose hair was dyed both red and blue (dying one’s hair outlandish colors was against school rules.)

  
Chrollo Lucifer and Hisoka Morow. They were seniors who were too impatient to wait for senior prank day to approach and instead made every day senior prank day, for Ging at least. It was their last year as seniors of Hunter Preparatory Highschool. The teachers were counting down the days since the boys enrolled in third grade together and dyed the class rabbit yellow all without the aid of artificial coloring. Their science teacher was impressed. Their homeroom teacher was mortified. The chairman, Netero, laughed giddily in his office chair and simply patted the boys on the head, told them to never do that again, and gave them each a lollipop.

  
The chairman finally acted when Chrollo and Hisoka stuck the lollipops to his beard and then he gave them one month’s worth of detention and even made them write a paper on why they shouldn’t ruin other people’s beards. It took Netero years to grow his beard back to its original length, his pride and joy, but it only took seconds to shatter it. His respect, his beauty—it all lied within in his beard. Without it, who was he? A chairman to a school full of students who didn’t respect him?

  
He prescribed himself a well-deserved sabbatical.

  
Afterwards, he came back to school wholly recharged, and with a new beard.

  
Carrying onto present day, and present day enraged but mostly stinky Ging; Chrollo and Hisoka ran past the front doors of the school building and lockers, practically flying. Hisoka accidentally knocked into a girl who upon impact dropped her planner! Her academic itinerary, which she could not live without, skidded across the floor and knocked against the black loafers of another student. A student with pitch black hair and obsidian bleak eyes. His long hair draped over his shoulder’s and down his back, angelically. His facial features were soft and pleasant too. Those around the student would call him beautiful, that is if they weren’t too afraid to look him dead in the eyes.

  
Illumi did not have the perks of being unnoticed and invisible. Even in the locker room, students gawked at him while simultaneously wishing he would not return their gaze. Illumi casually gazed down upon the planner, well beaten and with plenty of stickers. His long, black hair dripped his over shoulders as he bent down and picked up the planner. He turned towards the girl, who shivered from his cold glare, “Is this yours?”

  
She stood there petrified and mumbled, “I’m so sorry.”

  
That didn’t answer his question, so he asked again. “Did you drop your planner?”

  
“T-that isn’t mine.” The girl said whilst slowly backing away as a friend of hers cowered behind her shoulder.

  
Illumi opened the front cover, “but your name is written inside.”

  
The girl’s friend whispered a shriek, “he knows your name.” The girl with tears brimming in her eyes jumped back in surprise, as if him knowing her name meant being placed on an assassin’s hit list.

  
Why so shocked? I know your name because we have eighth period music class together, Illumi thought. And seventh period social studies class and second period literature and not to mention homeroom. Everyday homeroom. When our teacher does roll call. Every day. Illumi stayed silent on revealing that they share several classes together out of fear that she may have a heart attack.

  
Just when Illumi stretched his arm out to hand her the planner that was rightfully hers she blurted out, “y-you can have it—”

  
“I don’t want it. Here, just take it—”

  
The girl ran off, crying in her friend’s shoulder, tears glistening the wooden floor boards, and judgmental glares surrounded Illumi as he stood at his locker with a girl’s planner he did not want, dumfounded.

  
One student whispered, “did he just threaten her to give him her planner?”

  
Another student whispered, “poor girl, she didn’t do anything wrong.”

  
Someone else joined in, “yeah, he just started attacking her like that. Couldn’t he see that she was crying? Jerk.”

  
“Shh be quiet or he’ll hear you. Do you want to be next on his hit list? Remember what happened to Shalnark? He’s still missing.”

  
“The police still haven’t found him yet.”

  
“You mean his body.”

  
“That’s not funny!” the student whispered in a low voice. “Last I heard, Shalnark was last spotted with Illumi at Whale Island bridge and then he vanished. Coincidence? I don’t think so. Probably pushed poor Sharlnark off the bridge too.”

  
“Bummer, what a way to go. Wait a minute, you saw them together?”

  
“Well, no, but a friend of my friend’s did. Or at least I think they did…but the point is Shalnark was last seen with Illumi, I know that!”

  
“Sharlnark probably owed Illumi money or something…”

  
“Yeah, but a Zoldyck doesn’t need a reason to do someone in…”

  
Finally, to top it all off. “That’s a Zoldyck for you. The city’s built off their victims’ bones, right down to its rotten core.”

  
Illumi slammed his locker shut and the students behind his back practically jumped where they stood. He silently picked up his bag and walked past the students, avoiding their gaze as they shivered and melded with the lockers. They finally regained their composure—and their breathing—as Illumi left the locker room.

  
There were five or so minutes remaining until the first homeroom bell rang and there were two things Illumi couldn’t stand; stupid rumors about himself and stupid rumors about himself that were spread by the schools most vile students. By now, in his third year of high school, Illumi was used to hallways clearing as he made his entrance. He was used to the quieted voices of students talking—or spreading—rumors about him. He was used to people jumping out of his way, apologizing to him, and begging for forgiveness. Despite him doing absolutely nothing to warrant their forgiveness.

  
He transcended the scuffed staircase that lead to the school’s roof. He didn’t even have to ask the students to move off the final step for him to pass. They easily scampered off the stairway like mice running away from a very hungry cat. There were many things at school that Illumi has come not to mind, but Chrollo and Hisoka? Well, they pissed him off the most.

  
As Illumi swung open the door, a gust of wind swept past him. It carried the fresh scent of spring and the lingering aroma of fallen cherry blossoms. It was warm and kind. He had no reason to be anything but happy on a beautiful spring day, but soon the wind turned sour as a new scent was carried through it. He smelled liars and tricksters, and the faint scent of a stink bomb that went off on Coach Ging. Illumi did have a reason to be anything but happy this morning as he faced Hisoka and Chrollo. Hisoka was sun bathing on the roof whilst chewing a piece of Bungee Gum, and Chrollo was sitting beneath the shade cast by the metal bleachers. There was a book open in Chrollo’s hands, probably some banned book the school did not permit students to read, but Illumi didn’t care about that. If anything, he felt like chucking the book out of Chrollo’s hands and over the roof with Hisoka’s Bungee Gum—along with Hisoka too.

  
They started another rumor about him—again. If they were not going to listen to school decorum, they were going to listen to him.

  
Illumi crossed his arms as he stopped in front of Chrollo. Chrollo didn’t dare look up, he simply smirked and turned the next page of his book, “mind standing a bit more to my left? The sun is strong this morning.”

  
Illumi stepped away and allowed the light to smack Chrollo dead in the face.

  
Chrollo hummed. “I needed more Vitamin D anyway.”

  
Illumi lowered his voice, loud and clear for both of them to hear. “Stop spreading rumors about me or do you honestly have nothing better to do with your time.”

  
“Hm, which rumor? There is a lot of them. My work shouldn’t be tossed in with the masses’ mindless dribble. You’ll have to be more specific.” Chrollo mused.

  
Illumi raised his voice a little louder than before. It wasn’t bitter or angry. It was just louder. “Why did you tell everyone that Shalnark is missing? I pushed him off the bridge—very original. We both know that Shalnark is studying abroad at Cheadle’s Institute of Medicine and Technology. He was glad to leave this shitty city.”

  
Hisoka blew a bubble—and then it popped. “Oh, somebody’s mad.” He sang, obnoxiously. “Illumi, I heard you were terrorizing a poor, defenseless girl in the locker room earlier. That’s low, even for you.”

  
Illumi shot him a glare.

  
Hisoka winked and along came a little pink heart to accent his obnoxiousness.

  
Illumi rolled his eyes.

  
Chrollo leaned his arm on his knee and closed his book, “Oh that infamous chemistry of yours,” Chrollo whistled. “You too should be married already.”

  
“Don’t disgust me.” Illumi spoke, sharply.

  
“Ouch. Of course, we wouldn’t have anyone to plan our wedding anyway. Would you even officiate our wedding, Chrollo?”

  
“Possibly in my nightmares.”

  
Hisoka chuckled as he leaned back against the bleachers and began unraveling a new piece of gum. The other, now tasteless, chewed mass of gum was stuck underneath the metal bleachers. “And here I thought our friendship would last a lifetime, Illumi. Remember when we were inseparable in elementary school? Ah, do you feel nostalgic as I do? We’d even come to school holding hands—”

  
“Be quiet, Hisoka.” Illumi rolled his eyes. It was best to forget those dark days when Hisoka pretended to be his friend. Everything changed when Hisoka started getting closer with Chrollo and his friends. Suddenly, Illumi wasn’t cool enough to be friends with Hisoka—nor did he compete with Chrollo’s mansion which had a pool, a pool table, and a pool table within the pool. Illumi wouldn’t compete with that, but Hisoka’s friendship wasn’t worth competing over.

  
“Quieting.” Hisoka lulled, swinging his leg back and forth on the edge of the bleachers, slowly. Watching the clouds lazily drift in the sky.

  
Chrollo laid his book on the hot concrete in the sun. Hot enough to fry an egg—or Chrollo’s face. Illumi caught the title of the book in his periphery, it was Lolita. Chrollo always did like to read weird things or weird things that upset the system. “And we are so, so proud of Shalnark for getting early acceptance into his dream school’s junior tech program. Why, when he was accepted, he did not hesitate to leave as soon as possible. He left so quickly that we didn’t even have time to throw him a goodbye party.”

  
“But you did have enough time to say I enacted first degree murder.”

  
Hisoka snorted.

  
Chrollo smiled, looking over at Hisoka then back at Illumi. Amused. “Well, it wasn’t my best work due to time constraints but y’know, got to give the people what they want.”

  
_Amateur writer_. Illumi scoffed. _If you’re going to cause trouble, then just do it to your own OCs. Ruin their lives all you want. Not mine._

  
Hisoka chimed. “I came up with the part of you chaining a cinder block around Shalnark’s legs, Illumi.”

  
Illumi slumped his shoulders, “so I’ve heard. Kind of cliché if you ask me.”

  
Chrollo purposely ignored Illumi, “I beg to differ. That was YOUR best work, Hisoka. Anchor heavy cinder blocks that lead to inescapable deaths.” Chrollo kissed his index finger and thumb. “Classic.”

  
Hisoka swung his legs and forced himself up. “Look, if you’re so unhappy with our little tales—"

  
“Lies. Rumors. Slander.” Illumi corrected.

  
“Call them what you will.” Hisoka smiled. “But do not fret. Shalnark will soon be coming home after his program ends, and everyone will know that he is alive, well, and that you didn’t murder him in cold blood.”

  
“Gee thanks. I have so much to look forward to now.” Illumi mumbled beneath his breath.

  
“Glad to hear it.” Hisoka sauntered over to Illumi right when the first bell began to ring. It was time to go to homeroom. “Besides. Shalnark is looking forward to his very own Raising of Lazarus when he returns home.”

  
Illumi sighed. Great, even Shalnark, who was nowhere near school or Swardani City, was in on this ludicrous rumor. Why did their pranks have to exceed city limits?

  
Hisoka leaned into Illumi and whispered as the second bell began to ring. “Better not be late to class.” Then they left. Leaving Illumi alone on the rooftop. Illumi only stared at the concrete ground, stared at the faded white paint lines that used to outline the basketball court, stared at all cracks in the ground. A thousand micro abysses surrounding him from all corners. Trapping him. Illumi gripped his first as the third bell began to ring.

  
He was late to homeroom.  
  

* * *

  
Thankfully, Mr. Satotz was indifferent to school rumors and scandals and just lightly scolded Illumi for being late. As a consequence for being late, Illumi had to help with moving the musical instruments out of the music room and into the gymnasium after school for the upcoming Spring Concert. That’s just what Illumi needed—more work to get his mind off these rumors. But honestly…he couldn’t stay so late after school because he has to go home to—

  
Illumi wasn’t the only one late to homeroom on that fateful spring morning either. The classroom door swept open as a tall boy with messy black, curly hair entered through it. Illumi looked at the boy, just as everyone else did in unison. It looked as if the boy was running to class, considering his heavy breathing and sweat drenched brow. But the way his black hair tussled from the run, the way it looked as if fragments of midnight curled delicately around his head—this boy wore a crown of midnight on this beautiful spring day. And his blue eyes shined like the stars—the jewels of the sky.

  
Illumi looked away from the boy and into his notebook. Copying down the notes written down on the charcoal hued chalkboard, while some of the students hooted at the boy’s tardiness. One student turned around in his seat to face the boy and hollered, “Oz, why were you running late?”

  
Oz—the boy with the crown of midnight—panted a bit and reclaimed his breath.

  
Mr. Satotz tapped his notebook against his desk, “I believe I am the one who is responsible for questioning Mr. Temple on his tardiness—Oswald, why were you running late? Explain yourself.”

  
The boy—Oz—finally caught his breath and made his way to his desk after handing Satotz his late slip from the secretary’s office. Satotz examined the slip with a scrutinizing gaze while stroking his impeccable mustache. Oz sat down at his desk which happened to be right in front of Illumi’s. “My train was delayed.”

  
“I see.” Satotz said, while pulling out his phone. Scrolling through the news—and train time tables in the tri state area. His eyes scanned the news at a lightning fast pace. Finally, he looked up. With a look that did not radiate disappointment. If Satotz were to have a mouth, the corners of it would surely be turning up, smiling. “You are correct. Your honesty is admirable, Oswald.”

  
“Thank you, sir.” Oz titled his head in a slight bow. Long, black lashes curling angelically over his eyes.

  
“But you still have to help set up for the Spring Concert with Illumi after school today.”

  
The whole class gasped in terror as thunder shattered outside, breaking the clear blue sky with heavy gray clouds and torrential rain. Satotz slowly pointed towards the window, utterly confused. “I could have just sworn it was a beautiful spring day. What happened?”

  
“Global warming happened,” Oz said, then he turned to a friend and softly mouthed the words and it’s a bitch. That student snorted loudly and then the whole class erupted in a fit of laughter. Illumi was the only one not laughing as he was silently reading through his notes. If anyone was smart enough and kept up with the weather channel, then they would know there was a 100% chance of precipitation and thunder right around this time. Why the first thunder of the day had to strike right now and cause the lights to flicker at the most perfect moment did not baffle Illumi. Illumi knew that God liked to play games with people (preferably with Illumi), he just didn’t know that God has a dark—and annoying—sense of humor. Childish even.

  
“Illumi,” Satotz jumped as thunder rumbled in the sky, beating like a drum. If God was in this very room, Illumi would beat him with the same drum. “Oswald,” Satotz said the boy’s name as the clouds angelically parted, revealing rays of golden sunshine. Illumi glared at the sky as he tried to find that troll in white robes in the sky. “I want you both to set up chairs in the auditorium too, along with the sophomores.”

  
The thought of beating the lord almighty with a drum set left Illumi’s mind completely. Moving the instruments was one task, but now another. He can’t spend any more precious time after school, he was already under strict curfew under his father’s rule, not to mention he has to get home to them.

  
A student next to Oz called him the unluckiest bastard in history, and Illumi stomached a groan as he pretended to be reading his notes over and over again. Memorizing meaningless words on ink stained pages. Pretended that he wasn’t the reason staying after school was more of a punishment than it was a chore. That Oz’s punishment wasn’t staying late after school—it was staying late with him.

  
“Enough.” Satotz barked, gathering the class’s attention. “You’re just on time, Oswald. I was about to start a new lesson on the biomolecules of the body.”

  
“Wouldn’t you know, that’s my favorite topic.” Oz smiled while opening his notebook and inconspicuously hiding his phone underneath his desk. He caught a few laughs from his wry comment.

  
Satotz folded his arms, “then you may have the honor of starting off the lesson and telling the class what the four major biomolecules are. It was yesterday’s reading assignment. I’m waiting, Mr. Temple. Enlighten us.”

  
Illumi narrowed his eyes beneath Oz’s desk. He saw Oz’s thumb scrolling through his phone, searching for the answer. The picture of the chalkboard with dozens of notes appeared on his phone, unbeknownst to Satotz.

  
“Carbohydrates, proteins, lipids,” there was a slight pause of hesitation, but that didn’t deter Oz. Oz was excellent at hiding moments of doubt. “And nucleic acids.”  
“And what about their respective monomers?” The class eyed the teacher and student, back and forth.

  
“Monosaccharides, amino acids, lipids do not have monomers, and nucleotides.” Oz didn’t need to look down at his phone this time. Illumi quirked an eyebrow, slightly impressed as the rest of the class hooted while he remained silent.

  
Oz twirled his pen, rolling around his fingers in his hand. “Do you want me to go into their polymers too?”

  
Satotz turned around and tapped chalk against the board, “I believe I can take it from here. Well done.”

  
After a whole class about biomolecules, where they are located, and what they do in the body, the bell rang. Finally. Students practically leapt from their chairs, squeaking against the tile floors, and headed to second period class. But before students left the classroom, a few circled around Oz. Some passing high fives and others continuing conversations that happened the day before. Those students circled around Oz as if they were flowers facing the sun and they drank up his light—gladly. It made sense when Illumi thought about it. Oz was the most popular boy in school. Oz transferred to Hunter Preparatory Highschool at the end of sophomore year, which was kind of weird but Illumi never cared for as to why Oz transferred so late. Nonetheless, even in that short period of time, everyone loved him. Students, teachers—even Coach Ging. And it was hard to be liked by Ging, so that was an accomplishment in and of itself.

  
Illumi packed his books in his backpack and just when he was about to leave—Oz turned around in his chair towards him—smiling.

  
Illumi held his breath, it was rare for people to smile at him of all people. This was an extremely unexpected, nerve-wracking, and nausea inducing experience. Did he just enter the twilight zone because Oz is actaully looking at him, unafraid nor crying? Unless Oz is talking to someone else behind Illumi? No, that couldn’t be it, Illumi moved to his right and Oz’s eyes followed him and Oz minimally waved his hand as if to say ‘I’m looking at you and only you’—oh dear god, Oz is actually speaking to him. And this is the first time someone isn’t apologizing to him on their knees or groveling for his forgiveness. Illumi blinked as his mind tried to grasp what was happening and in doing so, he entirely missed what Oz was saying to him.

  
“What?” Illumi blinked. He probably came off as rude rather than nice, but Oz was still smiling at him. Illumi couldn’t fathom why this was happening, but it was. He wanted to hide in a hole in the ground.

  
Oz repeated himself. “Two is better than one.”

  
“uh…we just had science class…” Illumi fumbled over his words, and with his pen. It clattered to the ground. Skidding on the scuffed tiles.

  
Oz picked it up and handed it back to Illumi. Illumi’s eyes couldn’t believe what was just happening. Someone actaully did something nice for him, granted it was just picking up his pen, but still. No one was crying on the ground in a puddle of their own tears nor a puddle of the other unsightly—and smelly—alternative. Illumi quickly looked around the room for hidden cameras because how on the earth would the most popular boy in school talk to him, not the least bit terrified, if this wasn’t a game show or a what would you do segment with John Quiñones. How much was the prize money for talking to Illumi, for picking up his pen? How many winning points did that translate into? Was the winning prize a quarter of a million dollars (which was just a snazzy way to say ‘two hundred and fifty thousand dollars’ and was still a hefty amount of money), a car, answers to all of Satotz’s exam questions, or a car filled with answers to all of Satotz’s exam questions. What was the reward for treading on this dangerous territory?

  
Oz placed the pen back on Illumi’s desk, “I mean, if we’re both setting up for the concert together then we will finish twice as fast.”

  
Unless one of us is working harder than the other, then it could longer or slower, which would probably be me. Illumi thought as he nodded his head.

  
“To the power of teamwork,” Oz held up his hand and for a moment Illumi didn’t realize that Oz was trying to give him a high five. Usually when people hold up their hands towards Illumi they say please don’t hurt me or spare me or the last thing I wanted to do was eat a McDonalds cheeseburger. After a while of people crying in his face and begging for their last right meals, Illumi just learned to ignore it all, so a receiving a high five was—weirdly unexpected. But the good kind.

  
Illumi unsurely tapped his hand against Oz’s. It was barely a high five. A disgrace of a high five actually.

  
“You can do better than that.” Oz said, still holding up his hand. Waiting for Illumi to go again.

  
Through the corners of Illumi’s eyes, he could see the other kids in class staring at them. Fear hidden beneath their gazes. What? Did they honestly think he was going to knock out Oz with a single high five? Better not give them what they expect. So Illumi lightly tapped Oz’s hand again with a little more force with the strength of something frail and weak—like a caterpillar.

  
Oz laughed, “we’ll work on that after school too.”

  
Suddenly, someone patted Oz on the back. Fear laced between their fingers as they were enticing Oz to leave with them quickly. Oh, it looks like they are going to the same class together. Oz left with a group of friends who were waiting for him, all of whom shivered when Illumi looked back at them. “See you after school.” Oz waved at him, happily.

  
Someone whispered into Oz’s ear in a close enough proximity for even Illumi to hear. “Oz, we get it. You’re a saint, but you don’t have to be nice to everyone—especially to Illumi. You shouldn’t talk with someone from the Zoldyck family. You want to live, don’t you?”

  
“What are you guys talking about?” Oz questioned, confused. “I’m confused.”

  
“Oh, that’s right. You just moved to Swardani City, so you don’t know about the Zoldyck Family.”

  
“Sounds like an indie rock band.” Oz smiled.

  
The friend stifled a laugh, but their expression quickly turned grave. “They used to be the ringleaders of the Yakuza and—”

  
That was the last Illumi heard, no doubt spreading another rumor, but he didn’t need to hear the rest of the story. He knew the rest of it. He lived it. Illumi was the last one in the classroom. Instead of leaving for second period class, he rested his head on his desk, arms folded. He could miss second period class, it was only computer lab and it was just an extended lab class for students to finish their projects which Illumi already finished, so he could care less if he skipped one class.

  
Comments like that used to hurt—but Illumi got used to them. His family…did a lot to Swardani City in the past. A lot of bad things. His family garnered the city’s fear of them for decades and it wasn’t going to take one falling out scandal or turning over a new leaf of humble living for people to see them any differently. It’s very easy to scare people, but it’s even harder to un-scare them. All the crimes his family committed for decades wasn’t going to fade away into the night like the blaring of sirens and horns or flashing lights that one night when his family’s reign over the city ended. When his grandfather was arrested in their own home. Handcuffed and forced into the back of the police car—and his parents. Humiliation and defeat on their faces caught by paparazzi as they faced the same fate. Illumi remembered the night so clearly—they were eating dinner. Illumi was only six years old so he didn’t contemplate the severity of what happened. All he knew was that he was eating a plate of noodles, some went into Mike’s mouth (a puppy at the time) as he fed him under the table. Sause stuck to his fingers and even to Mike’s snout. Mike climbed up and padded his fluffy paws against Illumi’s tummy. His parents told him to never feed Mike food from the table, but tonight was an exception. The moment when he fed a noodle to Mike the police burst through the door, knocking it down, and pinned his mother and father to the table while handcuffing Zeno as he tried to escape through the bathroom window. The window was too small, and therefore grandfather did not make his escape. The most he could do was slap a police officer in the face with his slipper, but that was pretty much it. Although, this was a yakuza family, and even the slippers contained a bit of heavy weight to them, he knocked an officer’s tooth out but that was it—Mike trembled as a little sniffling Illumi held him in his arms. Illumi didn’t know what was going on, as his family was taken away one by one, he was only six years old. Finally, he worked up the courage to walk up to an officer and tug on their sleeve. The officer bore a cold expression as he looked down at Illumi. Illumi cried, now he remembers with embarrassment, “I’m sorry I fed Mike people food at the table, it won’t happen again.” Even Mike, a little puppy, was crying. Mike never touched a noodle ever again. The memories were too painful for the pup, now he scorns them.

  
As Illumi laid at this desk, watching the rain plummet against the window. Droplets rolling over foggy glass. A chorus of pelleting rain and rumbling thunder surrounded him. Lulling him to rest. He couldn’t help wonder how Oz was going to treat him after learning the rumors about him and his family. He doubted Oz was going to high five him again, he’ll probably demand to stay five feet apart, the very least. A strand of black hair fell over Illumi’s eyes. His cheeks flared, lightly.

  
Oz had a beautiful smile. And the dimples in his cheeks were cute too.

  
Illumi groaned as he thumped his head against his desk. Too bad Oz was never going to smile at him ever again or look at him or high five him or anything other than cower in fear and run way from him like all the others. Maybe this was karma. Maybe this is part of his payment for repenting for all of his family’s crimes, all of which they committed. Not him. Forget about committing murder, he never even held a knife at anyone before, let alone threaten them…Sure he has a glare game that could make anyone melt into a puddle but that was pretty much it.

  
Illumi turned his head back towards the torrential rain and realized that he was an even bigger idiot.

  
He forgot his umbrella.  
 

* * *

  
Oz didn’t show up to the music room after school, no matter how long Illumi waited. So he started moving the instruments by himself.

  
Illumi lugged the violins and keyboards and clarinets down the hall and into the auditorium. He counted himself lucky that he was strong enough to carry all these heavy instruments by himself. For once, he considered himself grateful for having put up with all those intense judo lessons his father put him through at the family dojo. The dojo that was the winning ticket to his family’s redemption through clean and honest work or whatever they called it. He was thankful his legs or arms didn’t give out around the fifth and sixth rounds between the music room, which was on the third floor of the building, to the auditorium, which was on the first floor of the building. Although, he had to take the elevator to move the drum sets. He carefully placed the metal music stands on the stage, echoes reverberated off the walls of the empty gym as he stood alone center stage. He placed one stand next to the other and when he finished with that bunch, he went back to the music room to get the rest.

  
He was forced to endure this monstrous task by himself. Alone. But this wasn’t a surprise to Illumi. Oz obviously found out about the rumors and is naturally avoiding Illumi to save his own skin. Fair enough. That’s how everyone acted around Illumi anyway. They were afraid of him. Afraid of him and of all the make-believe things he never did, but it’s all the more convincing because of his family’s history. All because his family swindled a few politicians (okay, many politicians), stole from wealthy corporations (the really rich ones where no one really cared if they lost five or so million jenny), and assassinated a prime minister and mayor here and there (oh come on, people act all innocent until they hear it was the mayor’s personal secretary that hired his family to make the kill. There are evil people in the world, but the Zoldycks weren’t the only ones in it). Naturally, Illumi came to the conclusion that Oz would never smile at him again.

  
Illumi slowed down in the hallway. His empty cart gently rolled behind him and finally stopped upon knocking him in the back. He stared at the ground and stifled a frown. A student shuffled in close proximity to the wall, practically merging with it, all the while avoiding Illumi’s gaze. It hurt more than it was supposed to when the student ran away—sprinting—when they reached the corner, loafers squeaking against the waxed tiles.

  
Illumi bit the inside of his mouth. What? Did they honestly think he was going to jump out and attack them like a monster would do, with claws and fangs? He isn’t a monster!  
Illumi breathed in and out. Letting it all go.

  
No, he wasn’t going to make himself upset about this. He endured this kind of treatment all throughout his years at school. He can most certainly endure his last years of high school, ignoring nasty rumors and pretending they don’t bother him, it was easy enough for him. He counted himself lucky that no one picked a fight with him. It was his family’s reputation that instilled fear into anyone who might—but it trapped him all the same. But if Illumi were in Oz’s shoes, or anyone else’s for that matter…Illumi would hate himself too. He was alone, unlikeable, and a freak from a family he honestly wished would have chosen a more respectable profession rather than one that revolved around vile criminal activity. Illumi couldn’t even fully enjoy knitting lessons in home EC class on account that the students and even the teacher think he would stab someone in the neck with needles. Sure, that is something his great grandfather would do in his youth, but not Illumi. No one ever even complimented Illumi’s needlework either…he can embroider designs of bluebells, clovers, and snowflakes and stitch clothing like nobody else could, but no, their only concern is waiting for the moment his needlework skills make front page news—and not about his flower laced embroidered doilies.

  
He sighed and breathed out the last of his sadness that would even make bluebells wilt. Back in the music room, there was only one instrument to take to the auditorium. Illumi gently ran his fingers over the long, vibrating strings strung tightly to the wooden base. It was a guzheng, a traditional Chinese plucked string instrument. A touch was all it too for Illumi to be over swept with nostalgia. He pulled his hand back from the instrument, laying it at his side, softly.

  
His mother taught him how to play. But now she’s gone…

  
Oh no, Kikyo is still alive. Healthy actually. Robust as a horse. ‘Gone’ in this case meant sentenced to prison for many years, but Kikyo was still entirely gone from Illumi’s life. Recently, Kiyko was moved to a new ward in the prison—a place especially made for the clinically insane. Her uniform in this asylum included a stray jacket that had to be worn constantly. Everyday.

  
Illumi didn’t visit her often.

  
Despite his mother’s condition, Illumi fondly remembered the lessons she taught him whilst sitting beside the guzheng when she was still sane. He vividly remembered the wisterias climbing all over the gazebo. Amethyst petals fluttering against clear, blue sky. Landing on his hands, even in between the plucked strings, faint like butterfly kisses. The sleeves of her decadent red kimono reaching over his own, instructing him how to move his hands over the strings. Ah, those were some of his happiest memories before she went crazy. Memories of when his family was still together—and had everything.

  
Illumi searched through drawers until he found a box of fingerpicks. The ones at school were made of plastic. The ones he had at home were made of metal. He wore the plastic tips on each of his fingers and with a lift of his hands he plucked the strings of the guzheng once over. The melody reverberated against the wood and rung sweetly in his hears. Plastic would do just fine. Anything could be sharp enough with a bit of work.

  
Illumi leaned over the guzheng and long strands of black hair swept over his shoulders like a river of midnight. His lashes fell then rose over his eyes as he brushed his hair away from his face. He wondered what he was going to play, but his hands worked quicker than his mind and they immediately knew the answer and told him.

  
It was a song he knew by heart. One he could never forget or let go of. It was a song that was precious and kind and sweet. It was a song that made him happy when he was feeling sad. A song that made him cheerful when he was feeling dreary. It was a song that made me feel an emotion he hasn’t felt in a long time—happiness. But most importantly, it was a song that forever instilled a time when his home was full of his family. Together.

  
It was also a song of longing for the past. For him, at least.

  
The song was titled, The Butterfly Lovers. Traditionally, it is an ancient Chinese legend about a pair of lovers who meet a very, very tragic fate they rightfully did not deserve, like most tragic love stories. But in the end the lovers were reincarnated as a pair of butterflies and because the stars themselves were touched by a love so pure, they blessed the lovers’ with their stardust tails and thus their wings shimmered like crystal mirrors all throughout the golden sunlight of day and all throughout the silver moonlight of night.

  
He moved with grace, and his music lulled like a gentle spring. Water trickling over stones. Fallen leaves dancing in the river. Butterfly wings reflecting off the water’s light blue mirrors. This was spring. When life begins anew.

  
And when Illumi played the final note, the rising hope that rightfully ended this tragic legend—he felt better again.

  
The door gently creaked open.

  
It was Oz.

  
Illumi blinked. Wow. Oz actually showed up. Illumi didn’t know whether he should be impressed that Oz didn’t bail on him or beyond aggravated that he had to do most of the heavy lifting himself in Oz’s absence.

  
“I’m sorry I’m late, something urgent came up and…” Oz moved his hand over his pocket, almost checking as if his phone was still there. Worried as if someone was going to call him. It was clearly written all over his face, but Illumi could tell that none of it was about setting up a few stands and instruments for the Spring Concert, though the boy with the crown of midnight seemed to feel guilty about that too.

  
Illumi stood up and removed the fingerpicks from his fingers, one by one, and placed them back into the drawer. He said dryly. “It’s alright. You don’t need to explain. I’ve brought most of the instruments down to the auditorium.” He looked back at the guzheng and bell boxes. “You can do the rest.”

  
“Yeah, of course!” Oz said, while immediately picking up one of the bell boxes.

  
Illumi looked at the clock above the whiteboard. It was half past four already. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, “I have to leave now.”

  
“See you tomorrow.”

  
Illumi nodded. He looked out the window and sighed. It was still raining, heavily. Why on earth did he forget his umbrella this morning?

  
“Did you forget your umbrella this morning?” Oz asked.

  
“Regrettably.”

  
“I can lend you mine, if you want.”

  
“It’s fine. I’ll manage.”

  
“Are you sure? It’s pouring cats and dogs out there.”

  
“It’s just a drizzle.”

  
Thunder conveniently struck the sky. Sharp shadows cascaded across the room and then disappeared. Rain pelleted against the windows like needles puncturing glass. Illumi gulped.

  
Oz stared at the dark gray clouds and torrential rain. “That’s one intense drizzle.”

  
“Goodbye.” The last thing Illumi wanted to do was use Oz’s umbrella. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but he didn’t want students thinking he smuggled it from Oz when he couldn’t bother to carry his own. Illumi vividly remembered the planner incident from this morning, which he did not want to repeat that again. He bid Oz goodbye and left the music room.

  
When Illumi got to the lockers and changed his shoes, he desperately hoped that he at least had a jacket in his locker. He didn’t. Although there was that doily, he knitted in home EC class at the bottom of his locker, but that laced fabric wouldn’t spare him from the torrent weather outside. His shoulders slumped miserably. Guess he was just going to get drenched with rain. Maybe if he used his backpack as a shield and ran really fast—

  
An umbrella dropped into his arms.

  
Illumi turned his head towards the sound, shocked. It was Oz. Running away from him before he had a chance to give the umbrella back. “I-I don’t need this!” Illumi stuttered. An obvious lie.

  
Oz hollered far across the hallway, smiling. “Remember to give it back to me in homeroom tomorrow.” He disappeared beyond the corner, leaving Illumi alone with his umbrella.

  
For a moment, Illumi just stayed silent where he was. He contemplated to use or not use the umbrella over and over again in his mind. If he gave the umbrella back to Oz tomorrow in homeroom, it would surely cause a scene, unless if he was the first to arrive to class and inconspicuously put it in Oz’s desk then it would be fine, or he could just leave it in Oz’s locker right now. Illumi looked back and forth between the gray, monotonous lockers. They all looked the same and he didn’t know which one was Oz’s locker.

  
The rain continued to pour, and the wind pushed the trees in a way that permanently made them look lopsided.

  
Illumi opened the umbrella and promised himself that he was going to wake up early tomorrow morning to sneak the umbrella back into Oz’s desk. There was a part of him that dreaded the uncertainty that came with Oz’s kindness, but he was glad to have it.

  
There was no time to dawdle as he trudged through the rain, defying the wind that seeped through his bones or the cold that nipped at his skin. He had to hurry home.  
His family was waiting for him.

  
 

* * *

  
The Zoldyck Family, infamous gangsters of Swardani’s City’s underground, once lived in a mansion swarming with butlers and maids and many, many unruly dogs. Guard dogs was the more appropriate term for them, they had sharpened claws and even more finely sharpened fangs and had a strong affinity for unwanted visitors and mongrels to trespass the Zoldyck grounds. For the guard dogs, cowards and thieves tasted the best on their palette, or so the rumors go.

  
Illumi turned the corner of Kukuroo street, where his home was. The rusty, steel gates creaked as he opened them. He was met with statues of moss ridden dragons as he avoided stepping through puddles over the stone pathway. He briefly looked at the koi pond which was now flooded with green flora, whether or not the koi survived was not his concern. Ever since the family could no longer afford to keep their staff, butlers and maids and gardeners, the grounds of the mansion have gone into decay. Illumi kept his opinions to himself about the wretched state of the home, bringing up the topic of their notorious fall comes as a heartache to Silva, but even more so to Maha. The crunch of rotten, brown and dark leaves crackled under his feet, while the moss padded his steps. The dragon statues cracked and turned a faded gray and wispy vines sprawled into their dulled jaws. Illumi kept his opinions to himself, but a part of him reveled in the nature that overtook the grounds. The loss of their gardeners brought him an unexpected joy. Not that he would tell Silva that.

  
The windows glowed a faded yellow and then he saw a shadow move. A shadow with pig tails. Illumi breathed a sigh of relief. Ah, she was still here. Thank goodness. He moved faster on the steps and stood beneath the front doorway. He closed Oz’s umbrella, shook off the water and saw beneath the hood of the umbrella something very peculiar. A detail Illumi neglected to notice.

  
Stars.

  
Stars were drawn underneath the hood in silver and gold hues. Their tails twirled in decadent swirls over the purple and blue midnight sky. A part of Illumi was in awe of all the small details put into creating a mural in an unlikely place, and the other part of him felt anxious to not ruin or even dent this umbrella. He closed it more delicately than an umbrella was supposed to be closed in fear of ruining anything. Was this something people regularly do? They add bits and pieces of magic into everyday things? Or maybe it was just something Oz did? Why did Oz give him something so important? That was really of nice of him…Illumi shook his head and jumbled for his keys. He won’t deviant from his plans of (delicately) shoving the umbrella back into Oz’s desk first thing tomorrow morning and he won’t think anymore of Oz’s kindness. Oz probably lends his starry umbrella to everybody, yeah, that was it. Illumi wasn’t anymore special than anyone to receive another’s kindness.

  
Right when he was about to unlock the door, the lock clicked, and the door opened for him. Light shown on his face as he was greeted by a woman who was very tall for her old age. She wore a long sleeved sweater and a dress underneath that reached the floor, and little Kalluto on her hip. This was Tsubone. A nanny of the Zoldyck children; technically she is the nanny of the Zoldyck children when Illumi is away at school, but when Illumi arrives home he is essentially the nanny to his little brothers and sisters. Illumi wasn’t free to waste away his time after school, he had to come home and take care of his siblings. Somedays he didn’t mind at all—other times he did.

  
Kalluto, only a little baby no more than a year old, stretched out his hands towards Illumi. In doing so Kalluto dropped his tiger plushy that has seen better days. Kalluto waved his arms against his side and whined, tears pricking at the corner of her amethyst eyes. Illumi quickly took off his backpack and his shoes, leaving the soaking umbrella at the door, and cradled Kalluto in his arms while simultaneously picking up the tiger plushie and handing it back to the baby who grabbed at it with greedy little hands.

  
“Thank you again, Tsubone.” Illumi said, tired and exhausted.

  
Tsubone patted down the folds in her dress, “It is my pleasure to take care of such sweet little angels.” She gently stroked Kalluto on his rosy cheeks, but he soon hid his face beneath the protection of his stuffed tiger. A big scary, and fluffy, tiger to ward off cheek-pinchers. A button eye was missing from the tiger. Illumi would have to sew it back on later.

  
Illumi swiveled around to latch the door—forgetting that he didn’t need to, Tsubone was about to leave anyway. She stayed way beyond the time she was required to stay. He wiped a hand over his face, embarrassed at his forgetfulness, he was so tired. “I’m sorry, let me write out your check.”

  
Tsubone folded her hands neatly as Illumi slid across the hallway and into the kitchen. Kalluto squealed a high note, sucking on the tiger’s nose. “Take your time.”

  
Illumi opened a draw and swiped out a leather checkbook with one hand. He was moving too quick. Too uncoordinated. Too tired. He pulled a pen out of a jar and the jar toppled over. Paperclips clattered onto the table top and a pencil rolled off it.

  
One pencil fell and clattered to the floor. Then another. Kalluto giggled. But Illumi remained focused on writing out the check, all the while little Kalluto stared at the pretty marble that rolled out of the jar, he reached his hand towards the pink and red speckled marble and whined when Illumi tossed it back into the jar before Kalluto could reach it or stuff it into his little mouth.

  
Kalluto had a brilliant idea on how to obtain the pretty, sparkling marble.

  
He flung his toy tiger at the jar.

  
Kalluto began to mournfully whimper when his well thought out plan didn’t work. He lost his tiger and the marble. There was nothing more tragic to ever happen in all of his life. Tsubone picked up the tiger and handed it back to Kalluto. Kalluto sniffled his last tear as he was reunited with his best friend. He wiped his runny nose against the tiger’s forehead and bit the tiger’s plush pink nose. Chewing made him take his mind off being sad. He giggled a high note.

  
Illumi heard the sound of synthetic blasts and pops and monster slaying sounds coming from Milluki’s bedroom. Milluki was home from middle school already, that’s good.  
“The twins are napping soundly in their crib.” Tsubone gestured to the living room where a big blue crib laid. Alluka and Nanika were indeed resting soundly there. Illumi didn’t know how Tsubone did it. It’s nearly impossible to put his little sisters to bed, but Tsubone was gifted with children, except one…

  
Killua rammed into Illumi’s knees from behind and roared like a ferocious dinosaur.

  
Illumi grumbled. “There’s my favorite monstrosity.” _F*** my life_.

  
Killua, a young mischievous boy no less than four and half years old, ran away from Illumi. Killua reared against the wall, swiped his foot against the ground like bulls do and pointed his index fingers up against his head. He is channeling his inner bull, and his was channeling Illumi as a giant and dull brick wall. Killua roared his battle cry and charged towards his older brother, knocking him right in the knees.

  
It felt like Illumi was punched with a pillow. A very fluffy and emotionally disturbed pillow.

  
“Try harder and next time you may even be able to tickle me.”

  
Killua hissed.

  
“I love you, too.”

  
Killua ignored his older brother and swiveled towards Tsubone and put on his most angelic smile. “Bye-bye, Tsubone.”

  
Tsubone unbuckled her purse and put the check inside her wallet, which was filled with pictures of her granddaughter. “Bye-bye, Killua-chan. Have a nice evening with your brothers and sisters. Send your father my regards.”

  
Killua jumped up and down and around Illumi as his brother escorted their nanny out the door. Tsubone waved a final goodbye and then she was gone. She was smart enough to bring her own umbrella upon listening to the weather channel this morning.

  
Once she left, Killua immediately reverted back to being his usual little shit demon. Killua hopped unto the couch and persistently jumped up and down and up and down and up and down, demanding what he usually wanted to eat for dinner every single night. Candy. “I want candy. I want candy. I want candy.”

  
Illumi placed Kalluto in his rocker and there Kalluto was entranced with jingly balls that hung above it. Kalluto smacked the balls and giggled delightedly when they jingled a pretty sound. Little bells rung as Illumi said, “sit down.” Killua jumped his last jump in midair and his bum landed on the couch. Killua was smiling that mischievous grin of his. What the hell was he thinking about this time?

  
“What are you thinking?” Illumi put his hands on his hips. He was already running through a list of recipes to make for dinner. He was thankful Tsubone already cooked a pot of rice for them. All he has to do is make a main dish. There was sliced salmon in the fridge, but Killua is a picky eater and hated anything that swam, breathed, lived, or died in the sea. Curry perhaps? Killua liked cows. He certainly loved playing the part of a bull.

  
“I’m going on an exposition tomorrow!” Killua swung his legs.

  
“Expedition.” Illumi corrected.

  
“Exposition.” Killua corrected Illumi. He was the smart one here, not his older brother. “My biggest adventure in my whole life.” Killua raised his arms above his head.

  
Illumi blinked and closed his eyes only for a moment. If he closed them for too long, Killua would do something dangerous again. Like throwing a toy truck at Illumi’s head or throwing a pillow at Illumi’s head or throwing anything throwable at Illumi’s head. Illumi opened his eyes and saw Killua reaching for a box of tissues. “Don’t even try.”

  
Killua swiped his hands behind his back and laughed. Toppling over to his side. His fluffy, white hair was more unkempt than usual. Illumi would attempt to comb it, but Killua was prone to biting him when he gets too close. His little piranha.

  
Illumi combed a hand through his own black hair and finally realized what Killua meant. Illumi wiped a hand over his eyes, tired. “Tomorrow’s your first day of preschool, how could I forget.”

  
Killua yelped happily. “EXPOSITION!”

  
Illumi entirely forgot that tomorrow is the first day of Hunter Prep’s Preschool. Now Illumi is going to have to make three school lunches every morning from now on. For himself, Milluki, and now Killua. He didn’t even prepare Killua’s backpack yet, ugghhhhhh, why is he so behind on everything?

  
Two little girls began singing in their crib. It was the twins, Alluka and Nanika, who were both two years old. They were singing broken lyrics of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, but they knew only the first line of the song, so that is what they kept singing, all throughout the time it took Illumi to chop the vegetables, stir fry the meat, and make curry for dinner. The girls finally quieted down when they each had a steaming bowl of curry and rice in front of them. Both the meat and the vegetables were finely chopped, but instead of the girls using their chopsticks like good little children, they used their hands. Illumi didn’t worry at all, at least the food was going in their mouths. For Kalluto, Illumi blended together boiled carrots and potatoes, leftovers from the stew. Thankfully, the food was going into Kalluto’s mouth as well. Though some got on his nose and chin, and even in Illumi’s hair. Milluki, being the cave dweller that he is, grabbed a plate of food and retreated back to his room to play video games. Illumi wished Milluki would help out with cooking dinner, but at least he takes out the trash, so that’s a start.

  
Illumi spooned a ladle of curry next to a spread of rice. He poured a glass of water and took out two pills and placed them on a small dish. He carried the tray down the hall, further from the dining room where the lights grew dimmer, and he used his knuckles to knock on the door.

  
“Great-grandfather.” Illumi called as he knocked on Maha’s door. There was no answer.

  
Maha rarely did answer.

  
Regardless of the silence, Illumi balanced the tray of food with one arm and opened the door with the other. The room was dark. The only light to come out of the room was from the television with some soap opera playing that Maha wasn’t even watching. Maha didn’t like to watch TV, but he did like the sound, regardless of what he was watching. It made him feel less alone.

  
Maha simply sat up in his bed and stared at some dark corner in the dark confides of his room. Of all those hurt from the family’s fall, no one suffered the blow more than Maha Zoldyck. It wasn’t just his job, his full-time hustle, or his livelihood of routinely instilling fear in his henchmen that was taken away from him—his life was taken from him. The yakuza was his life, his family…now he is only a disgrace. A weaker version of the man he used to be in his glory days.

  
Oh, and Maha was under strict house arrest. He was considered a danger to all of society, so society was off limits to him.

  
“There is curry and rice for dinner, and I left your pills on the tray as well. Take them with water.” Illumi said plainly as he placed the tray on Maha’s nightstand.

  
Maha didn’t say anything. He only stared into the darkness.

  
The darkness was scary, but Illumi was taught to never be afraid of the unknown that dwells within it. He was taught to face the unknown—and end it. Illumi reached into his pocket and pulled out a granola bar. He tossed it into the far corner of the room where a hand caught it.

  
“What? I don’t get any curry?” Gotoh said, as he sat cross-legged.

  
“No.” Illumi deadpanned.

  
“Fair enough.” Gotoh ripped open the wrapper and bit into the granola bar, he was famished. Oh, Gotoh didn’t work for the Zoldyck’s nor was he a butler or prisoner within their home. Gotoh was Maha’s parole officer since Maha had an unbreakable habit of breaking out of the house. Periodically. Gotoh kept Maha in check.

  
Gotoh narrowed his eyes at Maha.

  
Maha squinted his eyes at his captor.

  
Gotoh didn’t look away as he spoke to Illumi, “you didn’t sneak in any weapons in that mouthwatering, savory, delicious looking curry?”

  
“No.”

  
“Did you give him anything sharp?”

  
“No.”

  
“What about spoons? One can do many things with spoons.”

  
“No, I did not.” Illumi rolled his eyes. The spoon question was a legitimate question considering Maha used (many) spoons to dig a hole out of his room and into the outside world. He almost got close to leaving the city’s borders too. Gotoh wouldn’t let that happen ever again. “I also poured him a glass of water, does that go against any of your rules, officer?” Illumi retorted.

  
Gotoh paused for a moment. Thinking.

  
He can’t be f****** serious right now. “I’m leaving. Enjoy your dinner, great-grandfather. And Gotoh, enjoy…” Illumi couldn’t think of anything that Gotoh might have enjoyed. The man’s life sucked more than Illumi’s did. “Goodbye.”

  
Maha didn’t even look Illumi’s way as his great-grandson left the dark room.

  
Gotoh growled as he munched on his granola bar. “I’m keeping my eye on you. You won’t get away under my watch.”

  
“Noob.” Maha grumbled a low murmur and turned up the volume on the tv as he plotted his escape, with or without spoons. Gotoh wasn’t Maha’s first parole officer, but he will make sure Gotoh is his last…as soon as he can get his hands on anything sharp, explosive, and/or highly flammable. Maha will have his escape—right after he watches Gossip Girl. Oh yes, this is the episode Maha left off. Blaire is Serena’s best friend, well at least she used to be, but her boyfriend Nate, rumor has it he’s always had a thing for Serena and Maha couldn’t wait until the two best exies have their well-deserved cat fight. Back in his day when he was a newbie among the yakuza, fights among brothers were resolved with iron firsts and locks in socks, but manicured nails were sharp enough, in his opinion, to leave a killer mark. Maha sipped his glass of water and found a small, folded plastic spoon hidden in the base. Maha smiled. He raised his great-grandson well.

  
But back to Gossip Girl.  
 

* * *

  
“I want chocolate.” Killua banged his fork and spoon on the table. The plate of curry and rice jumped up when the utensils came rushing down on the table. “I want chocolate! I want chocolate! I want chocolate!”

  
Illumi spoon fed Kalluto, while simultaneously feeding himself and keeping an eye on the twins who were fortunately feeding themselves. Kalluto grabbed the spoon from Illumi’s hand and waved it like a baton before throwing it on the ground.

  
“Ba!” Kalluto yelped while pointing towards the ground where the spoon laid. Pointing towards the spoon he wanted Illumi to fetch for him so he could toss it on the ground again for Illumi to pick up for him—again.

  
Now, Illumi loves all his siblings. He wasn’t sure he loved them all equally, but nonetheless he loved them. Milluki caused the least amount of trouble, so Illumi probably preferred him the most. Killua on the other hand was the most troublesome to take care of, not because of his age, but because he was the ringleader of this little brother and sisters. Killua was a rebel and every night (or so) he led a rebellion (of some kind). Tonight, Killua was standing up against the system (Illumi) and denied conforming to the house rules (eating his nutritious dinner that Illumi slaved forty minutes over). The little ones were easily impressionable by whatever Killua does and soon they mimicked his actions, despite being perfectly content with the dinner they already had.

  
Alluka and Nanika banged their sippy cups against the table chanting for chocolate while Kalluto sung, “cho-co, cho-co, cho-co!”

  
Illumi was able to appease the crowd of gremlins with a bowl of red, glistening raspberries. They soon forgot about their chocolate plight and ravaged the bowl of delectable and juicy berries. Tarnishing the table with smears of red pulp. Illumi didn’t have time to spare. Taking care of his siblings left little time to do his homework—but he had to make time, so he did. Studying in between doing laundry, solving math equations while changing diapers, writing reports while cooking dinner—it all stressed him out, but he got the job done.

  
Now, where are the other adults? (You may be wondering or are relishing Illumi suffering as a teen mom of four) Kikyo is serving her time in prison. Silva is too busy teaching classes at the Family dojo and comes homes very, very late. He practically comes home when Illumi is already asleep in bed himself. Illumi rarely sees his father except when he is working at the dojo on the weekends. Finally, Zeno is serving life in prison, so caring for his grandkids at home was, frankly, impossible.

  
Sometimes Illumi wished things weren’t as they were. He knew it was selfish of him to think that, but he wondered what it would be like to just be, y’know, a kid. Staying late after school for sports clubs or any types of clubs for that matter! Not having to worry about packing someone else’s lunch other than his own, not having to make time for himself just to do his homework, not waking up at 3 AM in the morning to feed his baby brother and put him back to bed which could take who knows how long. Illumi loved his family, he honestly did but…

  
He wants to breathe. Desperately wants to breathe. He wants a chance to savor the air in his lungs. He wants to have all the time in the world to do absolutely nothing. Nothing—he wanted that. To not have responsibilities, to not worry about anyone’s wellbeing other than his own. To not work at the dojo on weekends when he could be doing nothing!

  
To not be a Zoldyck. He imagined the possibility of him being normal. Not coming from a former yakuza family. Not having his classmates and teachers cower in fear around him. Him just…liking another boy and not worry that his reputation will scare them off.

  
By the time Silva came home from work from the dojo, Illumi was already finishing his homework and getting ready for bed. Silva was exhausted and did not speak to Illumi, but he did wish the little one’s goodnight. And then went to bed himself.

  
Illumi tossed and turned in bed. There wasn’t much he could hope for, but at least he got to use Oz’s umbrella. That had to count for something? That was a worthy enough memory of someone showing him a morsel of kindness? He could savor that, right?

  
Illumi turned on his lamp and reached towards his backpack to grab the umbrella. Rumors say that it is bad luck to open umbrellas inside—but he wasn’t the type to believe them.

  
He opened up the umbrella and laid beneath that starry night sky again. The drawn stars revolved around and around, back and forth, over him. The detail put into them. Illumi wondered what prompted Oz to add something so magical to something so commonplace. There was a constellation amongst the sea of silver stars. Apus—the bird of paradise. Or at least that was what he thought it was. It also looked like an old broom.

  
Illumi wondered what Oz felt when he looked up towards this man-made sky, crafted by his own hands. After a long, tiring day of repetitious rumors and never ending responsibilities, of everything that happened today, a constant cycle of stress and anxiety. Then he knew, it hit him. He knew what Oz felt because he was feeling it right now.

  
Happiness.  
 

* * *

  
Today was Killua’s first exposition! (expedition, Illumi would correct Killua, but Killua didn’t care.) Killua wore his blue jumper, yellow cap, and white shoes. Today was the day he would go on his first grand adventure! The biggest adventure he has ever faced in his entire life!

  
Preschool!

  
Killua sucked in a breath as he stood in front of the preschool gates. The rainbow walls of the school were surrounded by magnificent playgrounds in the shapes of animals. There was a slide that mimicked an elephants trunk, monkey bars that resembled vines in the jungle for monkeys to swing from, and a castle that resembled a rocket ship with a bridge that connected all the playsets together.

  
Killua saw toddlers his own age, little boys and girls running around and laughing and playing together. He gripped the ends of his jumper as he took it all in. It was more than he ever imagined.

  
Illumi held Killua’s hand, then let go to fix Killua’s yellow cap, it was falling off.

  
Killua puffed out his cheeks and shooed his brother’s hands away. “I can do it myself.”

  
“Of course you can, but when will I ever be able to help you like this? Your first day of preschool only happens once.” Illumi smiled as Killua let him fix his cap. Then he looked around to see other parents dropping off their kids. His smile faltered. Silva should be the one dropping Killua off at school, to see his little boy run past the preschool gates, but Silva wasn’t the type to do those things…Illumi knew he shouldn’t be complaining. His father is working hard to provide for them. Money was tight, especially after the family’s falling out. The government took so much from them. He had no right to judge…

  
Illumi had to do his part in supporting the family. That was his duty.

  
“Killua.”

  
Killua looked up at his bother. The little boy hopped up and down on his feet, impatient to go and play with the other kids.

  
Illumi noticed the adults around him. The parents giving him judgmental looks and whispering to the others. He heard the word Zoldyck and trouble, and along with a parent saying to their child to only play with nice boys and girls while looking over at Killua, who in their opinion without knowing how charming and sweet the little boy could be, was not a nice child in their opinion. Illumi glared at the mother with his jet black eyes. She briskly walked away.

  
Illumi looked at the other kids. They were smiling and laughing and playing, but what would happen if they met Killua? Would they play nice with him too? Would they ignore him from their games? He might as well tell Killua now to spare Killua the heartache.

  
“I want to go and play.” Killua said, looking back and forth between the kids and Illumi.

  
“I know, but…” Illumi swallowed and kneeled down, the family reputation will probably affect Killua too. He might not make any friends because of it. Illumi remembered his earlier school experiences very vividly when his family still held power. To say the very least, Illumi didn’t have any friends nor anyone to sit with him at lunch, asides from Hisoka who hopped from Illumi to Chrollo whenever he pleased and then stopped hopping at all—leaving Illumi alone. Illumi sat his backpack down, along with Oz’s umbrella. “Whatever happens at preschool today, you shouldn’t be disappointed if some kids are…too shy to play with you.”

  
Killua pointed his finger at Illumi. A centimeter away from his nose. “I’m going to make lots of friends!”

  
“I’m sure you want to, but making friends is hard on the first day of school.”

  
Killua quirked up his eyebrow. None of the children around him looked shy. Right now the kids were playing tag and Killua wanted to be a part of that.

  
“Remember, Kil.” Illumi smiled. “I’ll always be your best friend, no matter what.”

  
Killua frowned. He didn’t want that.

  
“Go on. Get to class.” Illumi patted Killua on the back.

  
The preschool teacher, Mito Freecs, greeted Killua with a welcoming smile. “Good morning, sweetie. Are you excited to meet all your new friends?”

  
“Yup!” Killua nodded his head up and down, vigorously. He saw a boy with spiky green hair and wanted to talk to him first.

  
Mito’s eyes met Illumi’s. “Ah, you must be Killua’s…?”

  
“Brother. I attend the high school next door.”

  
Killua eyed Illumi’s backpack and saw something fantastic that would make a great addition to his first adventure.

  
“Wonderful. I’m holding a discussion with all the parents about safety and the school’s curriculum for the children. It would be beneficial if you stayed for a bit, but I wouldn’t want you to be late for school yourself—”

  
“I’ll stay.” Illumi insisted. It wasn’t like his father or great-grandfather were going to take time out of their busy schedules to listen to the rules and regulations of preschool. That was again, Illumi’s job.

  
Killua snuck the item in his own bag when neither of the adults were looking and ran to the boy with the spiky green hair. Killua smiled. “Hi!”

  
The boy with the green hair smiled back. His hazel eyes shined bright like light. “Hi!”

  
“I’m Killua. What’s your name?”

  
“Gon!” the boy chimed.

  
“Do you want to be my best friend?” Killua asked.

  
“Okay!”

  
Thus, a friendship was born! Gon and Killua walked into preschool holding hands, while Killua asked Gon how he got his hair to be so spiky, to which Gon replied he was born that way, to which Killua replied, that’s really cool.

  
Illumi didn’t imagine the talk would span more than half of the time it would take him to run to school. He was going to be late for homeroom, but if he continued running, he wouldn’t be that late. Suddenly, a young boy with familiar black hair and familiar black eyes stood in front of Illumi. It was Milluki! The boy was crying, and his lunch box was empty.

  
“What happened? Why aren’t you in school?” Illumi asked in a hurry.

  
Milluki shoved his empty lunch box, which was once filled with rice and left over curry from last night’s dinner, at Illumi. “THEY ATE MY LUNCH!”

  
“Oh, should I congratulate them?”

  
“ILLUMI!” Milluki cried, tears streaming down his face. Milluki lamented the tale of him walking to school and upon walking a long distance he became very hungry. So Milluki sat down on a bench and opened his lunch box (that Illumi made for him that morning and every morning for that matter) to subdue his hunger. Unfortunately, Milluki did not notice the pack of extremely hungry cats behind him and before he knew it, his lunch was cat-napped.

  
Illumi’s eye twitched. He didn’t have time for this. He reached into his bag and handed Milluki his own lunch box. “Now go to class before you’re really late—and make sure this one doesn’t get cat-napped.”

  
“Thanks, Illumi!” Milluki yelled as he ran to the Hunter Preparatory Middle School.

  
Illumi heard the first bell ring and saw the gates close. Fuck. Now he has to beg Coach Ging to let him in.

  
But even worse, Illumi has to endure Coach Ging’s agonizing lecture on how tardiness never gets anyone anywhere in life. Illumi always wanted to put a mirror in front the man, so Ging can give that lecture to someone who desperately needed it.  
 

* * *

  
Satotz stepped out of homeroom to do things whatever men without mouths do, so that gave students leisure time to step away from their desks and do things whatever students do. Which in this case was doing absolutely nothing. The greatest leisurely activity of them all. Oz peered out the window and saw Illumi being tediously lectured by Coach Ging before finally letting the student in.

  
Oz had a brilliant idea.

  
He went over to Illumi’s desk and flipped the chair back onto it. Usually, students flip their chairs onto their desks when they leave school and they flip the chairs off their desks when they arrive the very next morning. The point was to help out the janitors who have to sweep and mop and vacuum all the floors and carpets after school, therefore the students were making their hell of a job a little less hellish.

  
If a student, for example, was late to school or did not show up that day someone else would flip their chair for them. In this case, a student flipped Illumi’s chair off his desk in the morning because he was late or hopefully would not show up (which many of the students desperately hoped was the case). Students thought it was peculiar for Oz to do such a weird thing, flipping a chair back onto a desk of a student they wished would not show their face in school that day.

  
Not until Illumi entered the classroom out of breath with a late note in his hand. Students were gravely disappointed of his arrival. Illumi was used to the sound of absolute silence when he entered a room and the slow return of chatter that soon followed. If Illumi had any super powers, it would be the ability to kill the mood of any given situation. If you ever wanted a noisy classroom to quiet down, just have Illumi step in and the job will be done tout-suite. All he had to do was show up and wah-lah! Everyone is quiet. Not saying a peep and working hard like good little students! And so was the teacher, trembling at their desks whilst grading papers covered with red, squiggly lines. The Zoldyck name alone held frightening power.

  
Illumi made a beeline to his desk—and so did Oz.

  
“Here, allow me.” Oz smiled as he flipped Illumi’s chair off his desk, the same one he flipped just a moment ago, and placed the metal legs of the chair on the floor.

  
Someone in the back the classroom snorted.

  
Illumi mumbled a quiet thank you, but something about the situation was off putting. He didn’t know if it was Oz’s kindness, the fact that someone laughed, or that everyone in the class was staring at him—him and Oz, to be precise. Illumi decided to not think about whether this was some kind of joke, and instead ignored the staring as he pulled his chair out and sat at his desk.

  
Unfortunately for Illumi, his classmates did not cease their staring. On account that Oz swiveled his own chair around facing Illumi. If Illumi sat in front of Oz, he could have easily ignored him by not turning around, but it was hard to ignore someone when they were right in front of you, resting their elbows on your desk.

  
“Hey.” Oz smiled. His voice was as sweet as honey and his eyes shone like sapphire stones. “Did you get out alright of that intense drizzle yesterday?” There was a hint of a laugh in Oz’s voice.

  
Oh god, he remembered what Illumi said. That was a first. People usually don’t bother to remember what he says on account of them ignoring whatever he does say. “Uh, yeah. Thanks for lending me your umbrella. It really helped.”

  
“No problem.”

  
“But I felt really bad for you though, walking home in the rain…”

  
“Nah,” Oz waved his hand, “I resorted to plan B.”

  
“Oh, you had a spare umbrella?”

  
“Nope, even better. A garbage bag.” No one else in the classroom looked smugger than Oz at this very moment.

  
Illumi (almost) snorted. Then immediately covered his hand over his mouth. He just realized how rude that came off.

  
“No, it’s fine. You can laugh.”

  
“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have given me your umbrella then.”

  
“Are you kidding? That garbage bag kept me dryer than any umbrella ever could.” Oz nodded his head to himself. “My head, dry. My shoulders, dry. My backpack, dry.”

  
“What about your shoes?”

  
A pause. “That can be easily resolved with a bigger bag.”

  
“Raincoats are overrated anyway.”

  
“Who needs them? And boots, psssh. Real men walk home barefoot.”

  
The impossible happened. This was the first time anyone in class has heard Illumi Zoldyck laugh. Illumi himself was surprised when he did because the classroom was the last place, he’d expect to feel a thread of laughter. Yet, here he was. Laughing.

  
There was a pause.

  
Oz folded his arms, still resting them on Illumi’s desk. “Are you going to play the guzheng at the spring concert?”

  
For a moment, Illumi’s mind shut down. Oz heard him play the guzheng yesterday in the music room. No one at school has ever heard him play before. He was about to die of embarrassment.

  
“Yesterday.” Oz jostled Illumi’s memory of the memory Illumi wishes to forget. “You were playing that string instrument yesterday. A guzheng? I don’t know if that’s the correct name for it though.”

  
“Oh no, it is.”

  
Oz beamed. His smile was so bright it could melt ice caps. He leaned back and forward in his chair, “I KNEW YOU WERE A MUSICIAN.”

  
Illumi blinked. He never really considered himself a musician before. Kikyo always forced him to practice playing instruments of her choosing and he didn’t want to disappoint his mother either. “Not really…”

  
“But you’re so talented!” Oz said, a little too loudly. People were staring.

  
Illumi was not talented. He was just proficient. Anyone can play an instrument, whatever it may be, with practice. Kikyo made him practice the guzheng a lot, until his fingers bled. “Right. Your umbrella. It’s in my bag.” Illumi said, flustered. He reached into his backpack to return it to Oz. Should he comment on the stars inside of the umbrella? That wouldn’t be too intrusive, right? Afterall, Oz was the one who lent it to him, so one comment about it was okay.

  
The umbrella wasn’t here. Illumi’s cheeks flared upon realizing that his bag was empty except for his books and pencil case. He could have sworn he put it in here! He didn’t leave it at home, he was sure of it! He gulped, Oz was going to hate him for this. The boy was so kind to lend his own umbrella, which was embellished so creatively, and Illumi doesn’t have it.

  
Satotz strutted into the classroom, swinging his arms and legs in synchronized rhythm. “Everyone! Take out your textbooks, we’re having an open-book quiz.”  
Some students whined, some opened their textbooks in obedient silence, but Illumi was the only one who felt a wave of relief when Oz turned forward and said, “after class.”  
Now Illumi had to think of a solution in those forty five minutes between now and the end of class to scope out the location of the umbrella. He wondered where it possibly could have been.  
 

* * *

  
Killua took out the umbrella from his backpack. The one he swiped from his older brother this morning. It was currently snack time and Killua was eating gram crackers in the shapes of animals whose limbs now lay disemboweled thanks to the little toddler. Killua gave Gon a giraffe’s head and Gon gave Killua the bum of a polar bear. They sipped their apple at their table filled with many more kids Killua was already befriending. Today was the grandest of all adventures.

  
And he was about to have another one.

  
Gon slurped his juice box and mmmhh’d when he finished, dancing a little jig in his wooden seat. Gon loves apples. Gon loves juice. So why wouldn’t he love the very thing that combines two of his very, very favorite things? Apple juice was therefore the very, very best thing to exist on the entire planet. It made him oh so happy. “My grandma has one of those.” Gon said, staring at Killua’s umbrella. “What is it?”

  
Killua fumbled with the foldable, black umbrella. It was small enough to fit in one’s pocket. Killua hummed. “Hmm, it’s a sword!”

  
Gon’s jaw dropped, he had no idea that his grandma uses a sword! He knew she was a hero, but wielding a sword made her that much cooler. He knew she always carried one when she goes to the grocery store, so maybe that was how she got beef and pork. “You’re so smart, Killua!”

  
Killua smiled the very first of his cat like smiles. His imaginary tail flicked joyously at the compliment.

  
“Whose sword is that?” Gon asked, intrigued.

  
“I don’t know.” Killua wondered. It obviously didn’t belong to Illumi because swords only belong to cool people. Killua fumbled with the umbrella in his hands and saw the inscription underneath, Oz, in silver letters. “I can’t read.”

  
Gon slammed his hands against the table and called the meeting into order. Toddlers continued eating their juice and crackers. “Can anyone here read, please?”

  
Many of the little ones shook their heads, hoping their neighbors could possibly decipher the two letter name for them, but they still shook their heads.

  
Finally, a champion rose from the table. Holding his juice box high above his head. “I can read, osu.” It was zushi! Gon and Killua were saved! They handed Zushi the umbrella sword and waited for the name reveal. “Zo!” Zushi exclaimed, reading the name upside down. “This sword belongs to Zo!”

  
Gon and Killua cheered! They knew the name of the knight who owned the sword! But then they wondered why the knight named Zo didn’t have his sword with him? Weren’t knights supposed to have swords to slay dragons and therefore save the town? Gon and Killua gasped in shock.

  
Gon began to sniffle, his voice trembling. “What’s going to happen if Zo doesn’t have his sword to defeat the dragon? Will he be safe?” Then Gon started crying for the fictitious knight they did not know that they themselves made up.

  
Killua stood up from his seat. All the toddlers at the round table waited for what he was going to say. Killua was the King Arthur of his preschool and his preschool was his Camelot. He lamented that his evil brother stole the sword from the ever so brave Zo and a quest was now laid out for them! “Gon,” Killua said, extending his hand to his teary-eyed friend. “Will you go on an expedition exposition with me to return the sword to the knight, Zo?”

  
Gon wiped away his tears and took Killua’s hand. “Mh! Let’s give Zo his sword back!”

  
Needless to say the two best friends plotted their adventure and escaped during naptime.

  
Needless to say the high school would soon face an unexpected (and the most cutest) surprise visit.

  
Needless to say someone was going to get fired.

  
Needless to say it was only 10:10 AM and real trouble hasn’t even begun yet.  
 

* * *

  
Class ended and Illumi still did not know where he last left Oz’s umbrella.

  
Oz turned around from his seat.

  
Illumi froze as all the color faded from his face. He’s going to hate me.

  
“Probably.”

  
Illumi broke into a cold sweat. Did Oz just read his mind? The guy was already the most popular boy in the entire grade, he was a star player of the basketball club, he could play the guitar and sing, and he volunteered at Swardani City’s senior citizen home on the weekends. Why the hell was he so perfect? It should be illegal. To top it all off, he’s a mind reader. Oh shit. Illumi should probably stop cursing in his head then.

  
“I’ll probably go to Starbucks after school. Want to come with me after we set up for the spring concert again?”

  
_Phew, he can’t read my mind…peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers… you’re cuter than all of the boys at our school._

  
No response. “Illumi?”

  
Illumi felt relieved. “Thanks, but it’s alright.”

  
“But I feel bad about yesterday. It’s not fair that you did a lot of work on your own.”

  
“I’m used to it.”

  
“You shouldn’t be. Let me treat you.”

  
“You can treat me by arriving on time.”

  
“You got it, dude.” Oz gave him a thumbs up.

  
There was a ruckus in the hallway. Illumi and Oz turned their heads towards the source of all the awing and cooing, but to Illumi it all sounded like mindless yelling. Suddenly, a little voice cried out from the rest of the crowd. It was a little voice that Illumi knew far too well. It was a little voice that sounded incredibly bossy.

  
“Out of the way! Move!” Killua said, holding the umbrella in one hand and Gon’s hand in another. “MOVE PLEASE.”

  
The students made a pathway for the two little toddlers. All activities, all conversations, all the daily routines of high school life immediately stopped for the two little boys who should have been in preschool. One student gushed, they’re so cute!

  
Gon whispered into Killua’s ear, “they’re so ugly.”

  
Killua agreed. Then he spoke out to the ugly people. “My best friend and I—” Gon smiled, bashfully. He likes being called Killua’s best friend. “—are on an important exposition! We’re looking for Zo!”

  
Illumi sprinted out of the classroom at the speed of light. There was only one little gremlin, uh boy, who refused to acknowledge his incorrect vocabulary no matter how many times Illumi corrected him. How on earth Killua exactly found his way to Illumi’s classroom in the entire high school, or how he even got into the high school at all was a complete mystery that baffled Illumi and even the author. The author was sadly unable to record that precious moment in writing. Nonetheless, Killua was here in the high school building holding Oz’s umbrella.

  
“Zo! We have your sword!” Killua called. Hoping the knight would gallantly make his entrance on his noble stead, a horse, a unicorn, a hippopotamus, or whatever.  
Zo? Illumi thought. Oooooh. Illumi bent down to Killua’s height and attempted to grab the umbrella.

  
“No, this belongs to the knight, Zo, and he needs his sword to defeat a dragon. Back off.”

  
“It actually belongs to Oz and he isn’t a knight. And what you’re holding is called an umbrella, Kil. Not a sword.”

  
“Liar,” Killua scowled at his older brother. Students began to rally around Killua, cheering him on as he stood up to the school’s biggest and most dangerous threat (according to rumors, that is), Illumi.

  
Illumi was appalled. Killua is his little brother! (Sometimes Illumi wished that wasn’t the ugly truth, but he couldn’t change what he was born with.)

  
Killua stuck his tongue out at Illumi and the crowd cheered. Killua was teaching them bravery. Illumi was having an epic migraine. Illumi turned the umbrella handle right side up and read the correct name of the bearer.

  
Gon and Killua gasped, what sorcery was this? Zo the Knight was also Oz the Wizard? (they watched the Wizard of Oz before. After watching the film, Gon’s life goal was to be a flying monkey and Killua wanted to rule over Munchkin Land, the land of sweets and people with short tempers.)

  
Over the awing and cooing of the crowd, Illumi could hear Oz laughing on the sidelines, watching it all. Killua blue eyes met Oz’s and immediately knew it was the knight/wizard of many identities! He ran to Oz and kneeled. Oz quirked up an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh.

  
“Your sword.” Killua kneeled.

  
Gon stumbled behind Killua and did the same. He smiled a toothy smile. “Now you can defeat the dragon.”

  
Illumi apologized. “Oz, I’m sorry about this. I must have accidentally misplaced your umbrella and then Killua must have picked it up—”

  
“Thank you giving me back my sword.” Oz smiled to Killua.

  
What?

  
“I was looking for it everywhere,” Oz exaggerated. “Now I can finally vanquish my foes, slay dragons, and defy precipitation.”

  
“Yay!” Gon and Killua didn’t know the last word (the assumed it was synonymous with authority) but they still cheered and jumped up and down upon their successful mission! They accomplished their quest! Oz stood up, spun around and held his umbrella like it was a sword. Posing like a real knight, and in doing so he made the two little toddlers laugh. There was a flick of a switch and the umbrella popped open! Gon and Killua gasped, the sword also functioned as a shield!

  
Illumi couldn’t believe what was happening…Oz was playing along?

  
Wooden sandals clicked against the tile floor. Gon and Killua saw the man with the long, white beard and quickly retreated behind Oz for protection. It was the principal of the entire school, Netero.

  
Killua tugged on Oz’s pants. Staring down the foe, venomously. “Slay the dragon, Zo!”

  
“Me?” Netero muttered to himself. He supposed he was as fearless as a dragon, and after eating a whole bag of flaming hot Doritos, his mouth certainly felt like a dragon’s blazing mouth. He could really go for a glass of milk right about now. Netero blinked, the wrinkles around his eyes compressed and stretched as he eyed the make shift sword. “Oz, you’re not going to slay me with that umbrella, are you?”

  
Killua yelped. “Yes, he is.” Garnering Netero’s laugh.

  
“Maybe some other time.” Netero stroked his beard. “I take you are adjusting well. Slaying monsters? Saving Hunter Prep in the process? Whatever would we do without you.”  
Oz smiled, sheathing his pretend sword. Gon and Killua looked disappointed. “I’m adjusting fine, thank you.”

  
“I see. That’s good to hear.” Netero slightly nodded. There was a slight pause of silence and the crowd began to leave when Netero pulled Oz to the side. Illumi could hear the words spoken by the principal but pretended he didn’t as he escorted Killua and his best friend, Gon, back to the preschool. The teacher was probably having a heart attack looking for the missing toddlers.

  
Netero placed his withered hand on Oz’s shoulder while his gaze turned softer—sadder. He whispered, “if anyone bothers you, tell me right away.”

  
“I will, thank you.” Oz nodded, softly. He looked at Netero then at the windows. The morning light was beautiful today.

  
“Just say the word and I’ll whoop their keister into another country.”

  
Oz laughed, lightly.

  
Netero patted the boy’s shoulder one last time, gently. Then left. Oz was the last one standing in the hallway. Umbrella dangling down at his side. He held the midnight sky back in his hands. Stars and constellations and meteors. Light refracted off the windows. Bright light of the morning sun spread like liquid on the tiles around his feet. Dust caught in the sun beams and danced, spiraling high and low all around him. The boy stared out the window.

  
The morning light was beautiful today.  
  

* * *

  
_Sophomore year._

  
_Boy’s bathroom._

  
_A school worth forgetting, but it stuck to Oz’s memory like a grain of rice refusing to leave a sift. Cruel and persistive._

  
_Gray stalls. Gray walls. Gray people._

  
_Foul tongues. Vile snickers. Malice smiles. Wicked laughter._

  
_Oz stood still as he faced the open stall. Body trembling. Fingers numb. Heart thrashing in his throat. Gym class ended and his uniform went missing from his locker—the lock was picked._

  
_He eventually found his uniform._

  
_His black loafers were placed over a neatly folded uniform in the toilet, dead center. His uniform, shirt and pants and tie. Soaked and ruined and tainted._

  
_Silence consumed his throat, gripped it hard at its core while those behind him laughed and laughed and laughed._

  
_Someone pushed him in the back. To this day, he still didn’t know who did it. His teeth almost crashed against the ceramic bowl. His wrist protected him from the impact. The boys ran away after he fell. After he was pushed. Still laughing. They were still laughing._

  
_They didn’t stop even when he was the last one to return to class—in his gym uniform._

  
_The teacher reprimanded him, scolded him, belittled him for not wearing his proper uniform—and the boys who ruined his uniform crookedly smiled through gritted teeth. Watching humorously. Oz was punished and took it all in absolute silence. He was forced to stand outside in the hall and hold up a stack of books in each of his hands. His muscles burned. His arms were going to fall off. And yet, he could still hear their laughter echoing through the walls._

  
_Morning light refracted through the windows. Bright and warm and happy and everything he thought he could no longer feel._

  
_Silence gripped his throat, but his eyes succumbed to tears as those boys laughed and laughed and laughed._

  
_A broken record of wicked laughter forever echoing in his ears._  
 

* * *

  
Did Illumi regret giving Milluki his own lunchbox? Regrettably, yes. He was looking forward to eating curry and lunchtime was the only time he could unwind and relax. Although he lamented the loss of his curry and cursed those curry-napping cats, Illumi was thankful that he had home economics class today. He wouldn’t be walking around school with an empty stomach. He hoped whatever Miss Menchi planned for them to cook today would be edible enough for him to stomach. Menchi was a renowned chef, and Illumi thought that was great, but she could seriously leave her exotic ingredients out of the kitchen. Aged sea-cucumber, moss grown off the horns of a mountain tiger-bear, pickled apples soaked in garlic juice. Usually whatever he cooks up in class he either throws away (when Menchi isn’t looking) or feeds the god forsaken food to Mike. Unlike Illumi, Mike could stomach anything. One time Mike ate half a rubber tire and barked for a second helping. That dog’s stomach was a mystery—and so was the lesson planned for today.

  
Menchi sat in her chair, legs crossed, arms back as she (literally) looked down on her students. All wearing aprons and worried expressions on their faces. What Illumi would give to just order pizza right now. Menchi’s assistant rolled in a cart of gigantic eggs. Everyone’s eyes practically popped out of their heads. The chicken to pop out those eggs must have be huge. Monstrous even.

  
“The market received a fresh shipment of spider-eagle eggs.” Menchi said. Oh, so they’re not from a chicken, but spider-eagle eggs didn’t sound that appetizing. “Today’s dish is egg salad. Give me your dish at the end of class to receive your grade. Chef on!”

  
Egg salad was a very simple recipe. One that Illumi has made many times before. He was a master of this dish. In fact, he was egg-cellent. Illumi smiled at his own joke, he could be so comical.

  
“What’s so funny?” Oz asked, standing beside the stove top directly opposite of Illumi. Illumi forgot that they share home economics together. Illumi never interacted with Oz in this class too. Oz is usually surrounded by his friends and they talk their mouths off while their food is burning to the point where even a generous spread of butter can’t save the dish. And butter saves everything. Illumi considers himself a master at the stove, but people only pay attention to his knife skills—and promptly back away from him. The effects of the rumors and his last name never cease to leave him, not even in the kitchen.

  
“Nothing.” Illumi quickly dismissed Oz as he placed one enormous spider-eagle egg into a pot of boiling water. Now he has to wait nine minutes or maybe more for the egg to cook? It’s a huge egg. His mouth watered at the thought of making a delectable egg-salad sandwich. He might as well chop the vegetables now to prepare. “I was just yolking around.”

  
Oz blinked.

  
Illumi pointed to the boiling egg with a spoon, awkwardly. Feeling the need to explain his bad excuse of a pun he said, “y’know, joking around, but instead it’s yolking around…” That pun sounded a lot funnier in his head. It also sounded less stupid too.

  
Oz quirked his lips. Then he laughed. “Good one.” Oz tapped the table with his finger, thinking. “Illumi, if you need to borrow my umbrella again, Omlettin you have it.”  
“I begg to differ.”

  
An all-out egg pun war began. “Objeggtion.”

  
“I’m not going to eggsploit your kindness.” Illumi countered.

  
Menchi slammed her hands on the table. “You two need to find an eggreement and get back to cooking.”

  
“That was eggcellent, Miss Menchi.” Oz applauded.

  
“Oz, pay attention at your station. Your pot is boiling over.” Menchi hollered.

  
Oz cursed as hot water splattered out of his pot. He grabbed the handle of the pot with a towel and held it tight while turning the burner on low. He peered into the pot when the water began to settle down. Phew, his egg didn’t crack. Cooking and punning at the same time made him eggshausted. Unfortunately, bad punnery was very contagious, that even the author had an eggstential crisis trying to write more egg related puns and ceased trying so hard.

  
Illumi chopped his vegetables finely like a pro and Oz watched him in amusement. Illumi peered over at his classmates and none of them were exceptional at chopping. Illumi was judgmental, but he saw no need to apologize for what was blatantly true. Oz may have been the worst of the bunch, but the boy had charisma. Although charisma alone never made dishes delicious. Burnt, yes. Charisma, no. When Oz (who looked confused and helpless) was looking Illumi’s way, Illumi indirectly told Oz how to cut an onion without actaully verbally telling him. He held the knife, paused, placed his hand over the onion with his fingers curled into his palm, paused, and then he chopped the onion so that he’d never accidentally chop his fingers off (a very important life lesson). The objective of cutting anything was to keep your fingers, preferably on your hands.

  
Oz blinked. He leisurely stretched his arms out across the table examining the texture of the wood and stove top, he wiped a non-existent speck of dust off the table, and leaned forward slightly, tilting his head. sticking out his chin. Smugly.

  
Illumi held in a snort.

  
“You think you can make a better egg salad than me?” Oz said, low.

  
“I never said that.”

  
“But you were thinking it.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Illumi!”

  
“Well, your knife skills could use a bit of work. Okay, I’m sorry, I think you can make a wonderful egg salad. An eggcellent one.”

  
“Egg puns—and lying—won’t save you now.”

  
“But you love egg puns.”

  
“I do. I do love my new found appreciation for egg puns, but I also love proving sarcastic eggceited chefs wrong.”

  
Illumi slowly shook his head. “Oz, I’m sorry to tell you this, but that pun didn’t work.”

  
Oz titled his head down then back up. “You’re not really sorry.”

  
Illumi spoke softly in a hushed whisper as he turned off the stove top and proceeded to cool down his spider-eagle egg in a bowl of cold water with ice. “I’m never sorry.”

  
Oz turned his head down, smiling. He tapped a friend beside him and said, ‘can you believe this guy?’ The friend trembled and shook her head at a lighting fast pace while making sure not to upset the big bad monster at the table. Illumi pretended the big bad monster was Menchi. Oz pointed his wooden spoon at Illumi and made a declaration. “I challenge you to a dual.”

  
Illumi raised his eyebrow, “Is the knight Zo your alter ego now?”

  
“In this short amount of time, yes, I’ve grown fond of that title.”

  
“Whose eggotistical now?”

  
Oz explained the terms of the cooking dual. At the end, each contestant tastes the other’s egg salad and gives their honest and unapologetic opinion to declare the winner. “Do who accept the rules of the challenge?”

  
“Do I really have a choice?” Illumi said, already tightening the knot on the back of his apron.

  
“I’d knew you say yes.”

  
“Bring it on.” Illumi’s knot was just right.

  
The dual commenced! Each chef moved swiftly and nimbly at their respectively divided station of a twenty four student seated classroom. Their hands moved with precision as they gathered their ingredients already placed out for them in advance by Miss Menchi’s assistant, Buhara. The tensions were high. The stakes were tremendous. The prestige was worth wild. Oz ended up peeling off some the white yolk along with the egg shells.

  
“It helps to peel it in water.” Illumi advised Oz.

  
“I was just about to do that,” Oz really didn’t. “but thank you for reminding me.” He then proceeded to peel the egg under the running tap but had to clean the eggshells floating around the sink. He may have also dropped the egg in the sink as well. He pretended nobody else saw that.

  
Illumi saw that but respectfully minded his own business. He made have laughed…only a bit.

  
“Laughing at other contestants is against the rules.” Oz said. Laughing at himself now.

  
Finally the egg salads were done! Illumi and Oz tasted their own salads and then exchanged bowls. Each ate a tablespoon of their competitors eggs salad.

  
Oz slid his bowl towards Illumi’s bench. “My I present to you the best egg salad you will ever experience in your entire life.”

  
Illumi folded his arms. “That is a bold statement.”

  
“It is.” Oz smiled, smugly.

  
“Can you tell me about the methods behind the process.”

  
“Well, I started making it, had a break down…Bon appetite.”

  
Illumi nodded appreciatively. Oz made a pretty decent egg salad. Sure, the vegetables weren’t chopped as finely as he wanted them, but that was a personal preference of his. Overall, it was a passable egg salad and on an empty stomach, he could gobble the whole thing up. There might have been an eggshell or two in the salad bowl. “Great flavor, but not very well executed.”

  
“Story of my life.”

  
Illumi could hear Menchi snorting in the background. Finally, it was Oz’s turn to tear apart—politely critique—Illumi’s egg salad.

  
“Oh wow,” Oz said in between bites of Illumi’s egg salad, scooping out another spoonful. “MHHHH! You definitely made the better egg salad.” He took another bite. “You sure showed me.” Was it possible to swoon over such a heavenly egg salad? “I accept my defeat.”

  
Illumi held his breath. This was the first time someone actually complimented him on his cooking. He knew he was a good chef, on account that he liked what he cooked. At home his family is either too busy to say thank you, Silva eats out with his friends, Maha rarely ever says a word to him, his little siblings are too picky with their food, and Killua is always and forever in the mood to devour chocolate (which was a sugar epidemic in Illumi’s opinion). To hear someone else say that the food he made was actually good? It felt nice to receive such a compliment. “I’m guessing that you like it?”

  
Oz held up the bowl. “I’ve found my happy place.”

  
You make me happy. Illumi shooed the thought away as he was cleaning up. No, Oz is just nice to everybody, Illumi isn’t an exception. That and if Illumi didn’t act fast enough, Oz was going to devour his entire bowl of egg salad. Whilst cleaning, he stole a few glances at Oz, it was so easy to see how adored he was, surrounded by smiling friends, each wanting to bask in the warmth of Oz’s light. Some people were like the sun and they carried it around with them. They could carry it on small places like their pockets or they carried the sun in their hearts—full and incredibly radiant. And Oz was one of them.

  
Someone’s back shoved into Illumi.

  
Glass shattered on the ground. The glass cup slipped out of Illumi’s hands, soapy and glistening shards of glass laid at his feet. Illumi scorned himself because he let this happen. He let his mind wander because he was thinking about—forget what he was thinking about. It didn’t matter. He bent down to pick up the glass, but another set of hands appeared.

  
It was Oz.

  
“You don’t have to.” Illumi hastily picked up the shards.

  
“I want to.” Oz picked up one shard another the other and placed them into a rag.

  
Their hands touched on the same shard. And they looked up at each other.

  
Illumi felt a series of sparks set ablaze over his skin and his cheeks heated. Soon people were staring, and he pulled his hand back, quickly. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled.  
“It’s no problem at all.” Oz returned. For a moment, his hand hesitated in place, but slowly withdrew back.

  
Together, they cleaned up the last of the glass shards and Menchi proceeded to grade everyone’s egg salads. She described them all as a disgrace. Illumi didn’t think she had to be so harsh.

  
She described Illumi’s as barely palatable.

  
Illumi recoiled. Master chef? Psh, she obviously has no taste.

  
The day dragged on and hopefully the sparks in Illumi’s skin would fade away, but morning turned to afternoon and afternoon turned into the end of the school day and Illumi still felt that same spark inside of him whenever he thought of Oz. They still had to meet again to set up for the Spring Concert and even though he knew he couldn’t stay late. He didn’t mind defying that one rule in his life. He didn’t mind staying with Oz a little longer.  
 

* * *

  
“You’re here.” Oz smiled. This couldn’t be real. Illumi must have slipped into an alternate dimension, because the one person who should have been avoiding him entirely was still smiling at him. It was the end of the day and Oz was treating him the same as he did this morning. As if he was a normal student not from a criminal family who plagued Swardani city into darkness for many, many years. Did no one tell Oz about the rumors? Or if he heard, did he not care about them? Illumi hoped it was the latter.

  
“Hey,” Illumi mumbled as he entered the music classroom. The white board was wiped clean and magnets stuck to the board with music scores and flyers promoting the spring concert. Oz was sitting on the floor, organizing a box of white gloves for the bell choir.

  
Oz pointed to the box, “Melody told me to get these ready for the bell choir.”

  
“I can see that,” Illum said, as Oz folded each pair of gloves delicately into a pair of jellyfish. Then it hit him. “You call Miss Senritsu by her first name?”

  
“Oh, like it’s so hard.”

  
Illumi almost snorted. Almost. But he did smile.

  
And so did Oz.

  
Oz moved over and patted the tile floor. “I’ve saved you a seat.”

  
Illumi looked around the empty room, at all the empty chairs and empty spaces on the floor. All that emptiness. “You didn’t have to go out of your way to do that.”

  
Oz detected a hint, or two, of sarcasm. He squared his shoulders, snobbishly. “Right. No thanks are needed after all the trouble I had to go through—it’s not as if I moved a mountain for you.”

  
“Well sure, if you moved a mountain for me, I’d thank you on my hands and knees.”

  
“How big?”

  
“How big, what?”

  
“The mountain. How big is the mountain I have to move?”

  
“You’ll break your back, and possibly more.”

  
“What if it’s a small mountain?”

  
“There are no small mountains.”

  
“What if I move a piece of a mountain for you?”

  
Illumi shrugged. “I don’t think that is the same thing, but sure, thank you.”

  
“Oh, because a piece of a mountain isn’t good enough for you.”

  
“Oh no, did I hurt your feelings?”

  
“Very.” Oz said. “Broken, really. This is how you treat me after promising I’d move mountains for you. You’re so selfish, Illumi.”

  
Illumi turned towards the door, hands in his pockets. “Should I leave then?”

  
Oz threw him a pair of jellyfish folded gloves. Illumi caught it. “Hell no, if I have to have to stay behind, then so do you. We’re in this together. We suffer together. Not sit down and help me fold these very dainty, white gloves.”

  
“Suffering together. Sounds fun.”

  
Illumi sat down next to Oz and began taking out the white gloves out of the plastic bag and began folding them. He mumbled a few words under his breath.  
Oz narrowed his eyes, “I could have sworn you’ve said something.”

  
“I could have sworn I didn’t.”

  
“Oh no no, don’t let me interrupt you from before. Tell me what you said. Enlighten me.” Oz waved a hand towards his ear. “Enlighten me, Mr. Zoldyck.”  
“You sounded like Mr. Satotz just now.”

  
“I’ve very impressionable. Was that it?”

  
“Wait there’s more.”

  
The corners of Oz’s lips curled, “wait there’s more, it sounds like you’re trying to sell me something.”

  
“You’re…very bossy.”

  
“…that’s exactly what my mom tells me.”

  
“She isn’t wrong.”

  
Oz laughed as a pair of white gloves lay folded in his lap, “You really should speak up more in class and be heard. You’re a riot.”

  
Illumi folded the white gloves into each other tossed it into the box. Then he picked up another pair and did the same. Illumi would talk more in class, but he preferred to stay quiet. “I prefer to stay fluent in the language of silence.”

  
“I have yet to master that language. People have told me I’m too chatty.”

  
“No, I think you are just fine.”

  
“I must be hallucinating because I couldn’t detect sarcasm in your voice just now.”

  
“That’s because there is none.” Illumi shrugged his shoulders. “From what I can tell, everyone is happy being around you, although—”

  
“Oh no, what?”

  
“They flock around you like seagulls, how can you even breath?”

  
“I don’t. I just take in a really big breath and hope for the best.”

  
Illumi laughed.

  
Oz shook his head and clicked his tongue, disappointedly. “People are missing out.”

  
“On what?”

  
“You.”

  
Illumi paused. “Now that’s a riot.”

  
“No, what I mean,” Oz hesitated. “They just have to get to know you.”

  
“I think everyone at school knows me and my family well enough.” There it was. Illumi saw it plain as day. That change in Oz’s eyes. So he has heard about the rumors. He might as well explain now. “Uh, yeah, so my family was sort of involved in the yakuza,” well, sort of was an understatement. The Zoldyck family ran the yakuza for decades. “But that’s all behind us and now we run a dojo—honest living. It was my grandfather’s side hustle, but now it’s my family’s…full time hustle. And I haven’t murdered or pushed anyone off any bridges.” That came out weirdly as Illumi’s tongue twisted the words.

  
“Cool.” Oz nodded his head, slowly. He patted his knees and breathed. “Well, I guess it’s my turn now. Hello everyone, my name is Oswald, but everyone just calls me Oz.” Oz said to the empty classroom, and Illumi.

  
“Hi Oz.” Illumi sheepishly waved.

  
“Uh, I transferred to Hunter Prep from Oakland County Highschool, OC high school for short, at the end of my sophomore year, been loving it ever since,” Oz didn’t linger too long on the subject. “I was never involved in the yakuza, hard to be believe—” Illumi smiled at that. “But I was considered a miscreant in boy scouts—okay, it was really dark, midnight dark, city black out dark, pitch black eighteen century kind of dark and I did not mean to accidentally light my scout leader’s tent on my fire, it was an honest mistake—"

  
“I’m sure it was.”

  
“Thank you. My mom runs a bakery aaaaaand it was and still is her full time hustle. Aaaaand I haven’t murdered or pushed anyone off any bridges either.”

  
“So that’s make us both model citizens.”

  
“The city is lucky to have us.”

  
They high fived each other, congratulating the other on their model citizenship. They finished sorting out the gloves for the bell choir, but needless to that was all they got done. Until it was time to leave, they sat cross-legged and shoeless in the music room. Light dripped in through the holes in the curtains and dust spiraled in and out between the sun beams, but the box of finished gloves was all they got accomplished. They sat there talking, until Miss Melody told them to leave for the day. They would obviously have to help out again tomorrow, but the boys didn’t seem to mind.

  
They were looking forward to it.

  
The golden light of the afternoon shined bright over the cherry blossom trees. The wind whistled through heart shaped petals, now fallen into clumps on the sidewalk. A path of pink petals guided their way home as they walked side by side each other. Tips of their hands occasionally touching. Fabric lightly ruffling. Followed by one of them apologizing. Illumi could manage walking home, but Oz had to head for the train station which happened to be the same path Illumi took.

  
But it was still light out and while heading home to the train station, they found they were very parched and so they stopped at a vending machine. Which was solely filled with peach flavored beverages.

  
Oz fished a coin or two out of his wallet. Gold hued jennies jingled as they clunked into the machine. “What will you be having? Peach tea? Peach soda? Peach water? Diet Peach Zero cola? Peach juice with pulp, peach and corn rum…” Oz gave a sour expression. “Mmh delicious, or a cream-soda float?”

  
“What flavor is that one?”

  
“Peach.”

  
“I’m surprised.”

  
“Your sarcasm alone makes me want to buy you the peach and corn rum.”

  
“I’d gladly accept that beverage, but we’re both underage.”

  
Oz snapped his fingers. “And we just so happen to be the best law abiding citizens in the entire city. Darn it.”

  
Illumi placed his finger on the see through plastic of the machine. Pointing to a rectangular juice box with cartoon characters on it. “This one is for kids.”

  
“Then that should be perfect for you.”

  
“I was actually referring to you.”

  
“Why, thank you.”

  
Illumi laughed.

  
Oz looked at the cartoon characters on the juice box. There was a little fluffy puppy wearing a beret, sipping the juice box at a café in Paris, and a cat dressed as a waiter roller blading while carrying a tray of macaroons to the puppy. Oz audibly and loudly awed. “That’s so cute!” Then he coughed and corrected himself. “uh, I mean,” He coughed again. “Grrrr, I need to feel manly again, like punching a wall or drinking raw concrete.”

  
“That don’t serve that here. Just my luck, I was in the mood for gravel.”

  
Oz snorted. “We have so many bountiful options to choose from. Illumi, you can choose any peach beverage you want. It’s on me.”

  
“Are you sure?”

  
“Yup!”

  
“It’s fine, I have money.” Illumi fished his hand into his back pocket, grabbing his wallet. He could spare a few coins on a drink. It’s the least he could do to thank Oz for putting up with Killua’s shenanigans, and his own.

  
Oz folded his hands together at his forehead and sighed dramatically.

  
“Are you praying now?”

  
“Illumi, I swear to god, if you don’t let me treat you, I’m going to buy you that peach and corn rum.”

  
“Scary.”

  
And after a long while of debating and throwing around threats of peach and corn rum, Illumi finally succumbed to Oz and allowed him to pay for the treats. Their drink of choice? The peach juice box with the puppy in Paris design. They passed by Whale Island Bridge and the water underneath shimmered magnificently from the late afternoon sun. While they were walking, they were also window shopping. They passed an antique store, Wilburton’s Treasure Trove, filled with interesting relics, like candle telephones and vintage post cards and a wacky psychedelic crocodile coffee table that was half the length of a school bus. The eyes of the gator were galaxy inspired marbles.  
“I would buy that.” Illumi said in between sips.

  
Oz slurped his juice box. “You have weird taste.”

  
“But it’s a psychedelic crocodile. You don’t find that often in homes.”

  
“That is a reason why. Yes.”

  
The heavy sign above the store wobbled and the boys stepped back.

  
“Watch out,” said Illumi. “The owners really need to fix their sign. It’s going to fall down any day.”

  
“I hope they fix it fast. That’s a serious hazard. Someone could seriously get hurt.”

  
Suddenly, the store owner caught them staring at his sign that seriously needed to be fixed and could fall out any day now, with a big broom in his hands. Illumi and Oz diverted their attention away from the store and pretended they didn’t notice any deadly or serious hazards, or an old man with a very large broom that could do more than just sweep them off their feet. This was how they were spending the late afternoons together, hurriedly setting up props and lights in the auditorium, then after they walk home together; it was a time Illumi was looking forward to every day. When they did nothing together. Absolutely nothing. Glorious nothing. It was the best of nothings. They didn’t go anywhere specific, per say, or talk about anything specific, per say; their conversations hopped around, and they so did their feet. Without knowing, they ended up at the bridge and laid within the shifting grass overlooking the clear blue rivers, liquid sapphires flowing upon currents of opals. And over the river of liquid sapphire they saw what is known as a roost, a cluster of butterflies. They witnessed the flight of monarch butterflies and watched as their wings appeared and disappeared while flying in the air. One butterfly, carried by the wind, flew away from the roost—towards them. Illumi never thought he could laugh so hard watching Oz hopelessly try to chase a butterfly. Only for Oz to slump in defeat when all Illumi had to do was extend his hand and watch in ease as the butterfly perched on his hand, tickling his skin. Neither of them pulled their hands away in fear or embarrassment when their hands touched the other while the monarch butterfly laid itself bare, wings opening and closing in both of their intertwined fingers. The butterfly was light; lighter than a feather, but the pressure was there. Blood pulsing, hearts racing. If they were to let go, the butterfly would fly away; but if the butterfly were to fly away then they’d have to let go. The fate of this golden afternoon rested within the beating wings of the sky’s most beautiful creature. The monarch’s wings are bright orange because they fly so close to the sun, close enough to capture the sunbeams and carry them within their wings. Light pulsing in their veins. Carrying that fiery blaze of warmth wherever they go, according to fairytales. But this moment was not one of fables. This moment was real. They could see it. They could feel it—hands intertwined within the other. This moment was better than any dream either of them could imagine.

  
But all dreams come to an end. The butterfly’s wings pulsed and took off. Flying into the sky and rejoining the roost.

  
It was getting late, so they bid each other goodbye and went their separate ways. Illumi sipped the last remnants of his juice and held the empty box all the way home. He unlocked the door and entered his home, but he was surprised when he set his backpack down, ready to prep dinner and write Tsubone a check for taking care of his younger siblings while he was in school.

  
Illumi did not see Tsubone. He only saw a man with silky white hair that spilled over his shoulders. The man wore a cold expression that could turn anyone into stone—including his own son. Silva sat cross-legged on the tatami mat in the living room. Killua was quietly watching a cartoon on television while the twins were playing with their dolls, dressing up their dolls’ hair with flowers and ribbons which inevitably turned into a collection of tangled knots. But the girls didn’t seem to mind.

  
Silva had that sort of look which made Illumi want to be anywhere else in the world rather than right here in his own home. His father was still wearing his gray and purple training robes he wears in the dojo. Did he just come home right now? Doesn’t he still have night classes to teach?

  
Illumi’s throat went dry. He took off his shoes and placed them in the cupboard and noticed the kitchen stove and countertop were empty. Dinner has not been made yet. “I’ll get started on dinner—”

  
“Where were you?” Silva folded his arms over his chest. His shoulders were the size of boulders and his voice rumbled like thunder. His voice alone could shake a mountain, but his eyes could tear it down to mere gravel. Illumi felt a wave of dread upon meeting his father’s eyes. It shook him right into his back and he didn’t dare move. “Why have you been coming home late?”

  
Illumi was obligated to answer. Now. “I had to stay after school to set up for the Spring Concert—everyone in class has to.” He added a white lie.

  
“You have to come home after school.” Silva grumbled, eyes still furrowed in a heat of anger. “You know that. Tell your teachers that and they will excuse you.”

  
“Well, it’s only for a few more days. The concert is next week, and I won’t be staying late anymore.”

  
“I called the school.” Silva didn’t cease crossing his arms.

  
Illumi breathed. He stared at the floor. At a speck of dust caught in the frayed ends of the tatami mat. They couldn’t afford to buy another one.

  
“I asked where you were, and they didn’t know. They told me you left school after your little setting up for that play—"

  
“It’s a music concert—”

  
Silva barked. “Do you know how worried I was? I had no idea where you were, doing who knows what with who. Were you safe? I don’t know. Where were you? I don’t know. Did you call me even once? You didn’t. I had to leave work early to come back home because Tsubone had to leave.” His voice rose in anger. Killua shivered in his seat as the twins hugged each other. The little ones didn’t dare say a word.

  
Illumi bit the inside of his lip. “Maybe if Tsubone stayed a litter later then it wouldn’t be such a problem—”

  
“You know as well as I that we can’t afford to keep her longer than she already stays. In fact, she’s the only one we can afford to keep. We lost everyone, Illumi. All our butlers. Zeno. Maha is incapable of taking care of himself. Your mother. They’re gone. Unless you have money to hire more help?”

  
“No, father. I’m sorry, I was only just saying, maybe if I took on a part time job outside of the dojo than we could—”

  
Silva’s voice could shatter glass. Illumi was surprised the glass windows didn’t shatter at this very moment. “You are needed at the dojo. I need your help. Your siblings need your help. Your only obligation is to go to school, study, and come back home to take care of your brothers and sisters. They can’t take care of themselves. Without you they have no one.” A pause. “As the eldest, your family is your only duty. I put my trust in you to carry out this one job—”

  
Illumi yelled back. “That’s what I’ve been doing for every day of my life! Going to school, coming back home, going to school, and coming back home. Every single day! I’m the only one in my class who doesn’t participate in any sports or clubs after school. Do you know how much of a loner I look to everyone? I don’t even have any friends.”  
“That is because you wisely choose to not waste your time and instead be efficient.”

  
“Because you tell me to!” Illumi screamed. “I do everything you tell me to and still you’re never satisfied!”

  
Kalluto began to cry. Squirming helplessly in his crib. Kicking his legs and knocking his blanket off of him. Silva looked at Illumi and Illumi knew that was his job. His only job. Illumi quickly made his way to Kalluto’s room and cradled his crying brother in his arms. Rubbing his little brother’s back. Hushing the little one’s cries. If only someone could do the same for Illumi. If only someone could tell him that everything would be okay. But he had to tell himself that—but lying to himself didn’t help.

  
Silva coughed. “Aren’t Hisoka and that other young man…?”

  
“Chrollo.” Illumi coldly replied. His father could barely remember any of this classmates names. It was a pity that he had to remember Hisoka’s.

  
“Ah yes.” Silva stood up and brushed his pants. Getting ready to leave for the dojo again. “Aren’t they your friends? You and Hisoka used to be close in elementary school.”  
Every muscle in Illumi’s body wanted to recoil and flail back at his father. Hisoka and Chrollo weren’t his friends, they were the source of all his problems. Illumi’s life was a joke to them. His existence was a pastime for them to toy with. They weren’t friends. “No. They are not.” Illumi said as he fed Kalluto a warm bottle of milk. Kalluto quieted down with something yummy in his tummy. Illumi breathed. “I’m sorry for my outbursts. You’re very busy and I know you’re doing everything to provide for us. Your days stretch on longer than mine and I should do all that I can to help you and the family. I’m just tired, is all.”

  
“Illumi.”

  
“Please, don’t let me keep you from working tonight. Night classes are about to begin at the dojo and your students will be wondering where their teacher is.”

  
Some part of Illumi was hoping his father would object. That Silva would stay, but Illumi wasn’t surprised when Silva left without another word. Hoping never proved to be anything other than wishful thinking. Hoping was just something people did when they had no control over their environment. Illumi had no control—but he wanted it.  
Emotions boiled and simmered inside himself. He had no energy to make dinner. So he left it up to Milluki to order takeout, whatever he wanted. Milluki was overjoyed to order pizza topped with sausages and peppers and broccoli. There was apple sauce in the fridge for Kalluto anyway. Tomorrow, Illumi would prep a more nutritious meal…while his classmates planned to hang out with their friends or go to parties on Friday nights, Illumi was confined home. Not that he minds, but sometimes he did mind being so alone. Illumi also dreaded Fridays because they directly lead into Saturdays. Illumi, regrettably, had to carry out one of the most joyful duties of the family.  
Saturdays meant visiting Zeno in prison.

  
Illumi carried a tray of pizza into Maha’s room. The only cage of this house free from chaos. Illumi opened the door to his great-grandfather’s room—he was dreadfully wrong.

  
The TV was on and it was the only light to emit from the room. Maha and Gotoh were huddled together surrounded by a sea of used tissues. Their noses were running like cataracts and their eyes rained tears as they watched one of the most break breaking scenes in all of television history—Gossip Girl. Chuck dashingly dressed in his white tuxedo stopped Blaire in front of his summer chateau. Blaire in her pearl haute couture gown was somehow able to cry beautiful tears that made her look like a princess rather than a 100 year old witch—Maha and Gotoh mastered the latter look perfectly, not because Maha was well over 100 and Gotoh was relatively an older man, but because they never shipped a couple so hard in their entire lives. The actors from the show spoke dramatically:

  
_“Chuck, aren’t you done trying to destroy my night?” Blaire Vonwealthyheir flipped her diamond watered sprits hair in Chuck’s face. An intentional bitch slap. “I’ve had enough of your games.”_  
_“Look, I should have never abandoned you.” Chuck Loadedwithmoneyson said as the wind blew through his slick back hair and his excessive amount of ascots, blowing them into the summer sky. “I knew I made the wrong decision as soon as your plane took off. I distracted myself all summer with outlandish parties on yachts on even bigger yachts using my insanely large fortune I inherited from my parents who went missing during their anniversary trip to the Bermuda triangle when I was only two years old.”_  
_“You don’t have to tell me your tragic life story or about your outlandish parties on yachts on even bigger yachts.” The sun conveniently shined on Blaire’s best selfie angle. “Give me a reason to not leave. And ‘I’m Chuck Loadedwithmoneyson’ doesn’t count.”_  
_“Because I don’t want you too.” Chuck said as violins began to strategically play sad music._  
_“Not enough.”_  
_“Blaire Vonwealthyheir.”_  
_“The true reason I should stay right where I am and not get in that car with that wealthy football playing astronaut with a Ph.D in neuroscience and a bachelors in hair dressing who makes my hair look so damn on point,” Blaire paused as Chuck was holding back tears. “Is three words. Eight letters. And I am all yours.”_  
_“Blaire, I…”_  
_Chuck couldn’t finish the rest of those words and Blaire left with the wealthy football playing astronaut with a Ph.D in neuroscience. Chuck was left broken and tore apart, but he still had his money. But what was the point of yachts and money and yachts filled with money, if he has no one to share it with._

  
The season finale ended and Maha and Gotoh cried into each other’s shoulders as they yowled for the young couple to get back together. Maha blew his nose into yet another tissue which he stuck to Gotoh’s suit, “it’s just like my life…in a weird sort of way.

  
Illumi silently left the tray of pizza on the ground and slowly closed the door without being noticed.

  
Illumi spent the rest of his night in his room. He tried to study but his mind was jumbled with too many thoughts to allow him to concentrate, that and he could hear Maha and Gotoh bawling in the room next door. Illumi flipped onto his bed and decided to go to sleep. All the while on his dresser table, he forgot to throw away his peach juice box—but a part of him didn’t want to let it go. It was small, simple, but he knew if he kept the rectangular box, no matter how insignificant it seemed; his memory was real, his after school hanging out with Oz was real, that moment of happiness that made him forget about everything else was real. Illumi never knew that one little box of peach juice could make him so happy.  
  

* * *

  
“Everyone here is my bitch.” Zeno said, smugly. Holding the black telephone that connected with Illumi’s across the bullet proof glass with only two of his fingers. Zeno wore the same orange jumpsuit all the other inmates were required to wear except Zeno’s sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders and it looks like he has gotten buffer since entering prison.

  
“…Hello grandfather. It is nice to see you again.” Illumi lied, blandly. This is how he spent most of his Saturdays for years. Milluki used to come and visit, but he detested it more than Illumi did, so Milluki watched the little ones while Illumi visited Zeno for a short lunch visit. Thank god, their meetings had a thirty minute limit. “I’ve brought you lunch.” Illumi passed the bento to the police officer, who after thoroughly checking the meal, gave it to Zeno. Zeno looked impressed at the various octopus sausages and tamagoyaki.

  
“This beats prison food any day.” Zeno first jabbed his chopsticks into the sausages and began to chow down. He ate so hurriedly rice stuck to his white mustache. An inmate eyed Zeno’s perfectly delectable lunch and asked if he could eat a bite, even if it was a small crumb of egg. It looked like Zeno was going to jab him with his chopsticks. The inmate backed down and cried in some corner of the room.

  
“Thank you, grandfather.” Illumi slowly chewed on his rice. Prisons always had a rancid smell to them. It smelled like a mix between inadequate hygiene and desperation. The smell didn’t enhance the taste of the food on his palette. In fact, it felt like he was eating desperation if it even had a physical manifestation. Illumi chewed slowly. Desperation tasted salty.

  
Zeno moved the rice around in his lunch box hoping to find a nail file or something to help him break out of this jail house. He only found a packet of ketchup. Illumi may have had hopes of wanting to free Maha, because the man literally did nothing at home, and it would be one less mouth to feed but helping Zeno escape would only look bad on Illumi’s permanent record. Illumi had no intention of ever ending up in a cage like this place. Saturday prison lunches with his grandfather usually consisted of Illumi sitting silently in front of his grandfather and listening to the old geezer recount very unheroic tales of his yakuza days and his days now in prison. Zeno was a leader in the yakuza and that did not change when he was forced to exchange it for prison. In short, he was a terror in prison and his inmates lived in fear of him. Still, he was able to adapt well to prison life assuming forming his own click and bossing around the other inmates meant adapting well.

  
Through these lunches, Illumi learned to sleep with his eyes open, a useful skill for anyone wanting to zone out of family dinners. Illumi’s bubble popped when the prison guard told him his time was up. Thank god.

  
“Next time I’ll finish the tale of a fellow convict who pretended he knew sign language while signing in front of the entire mayor’s cabinet on live television. The guy had guts, Illumi.”

  
“Yes, grandfather. I can’t wait to find out next Saturday.” Illumi lied (again) and mumbled as he packed up his lunch.

  
Zeno shouted from his side of the bullet proof glass as Illumi made his way out of the prison. “Bring more of those octopus sausages next time! I really liked them!”

  
Illumi’s dreadful Saturdays didn’t end there. Oh no. He also worked at the dojo on Saturdays (and Sundays). Another one of his most favorite and joyful activities. How fake did that honestly sound? He could at the very least be paid for working in the dojo, but family businesses were usually synonymous with free labor, so in short, he didn’t even receive the minimum wage. He received no wage. He could have been paid for visiting Zeno too. Maybe then he would be looking forward to these prison lunches.

  
Illumi worked at the front desk at the family dojo, Zoldyck Martial Arts, doing clerical work and signing students in. The weird thing about working at the dojo was that people asked him what he wanted to do with his life at the front counter, more specifically they asked if he was going to go into the family business. That would have been a typical, common place question that Illumi didn’t need to think twice about, but considering the questions were being asked by fellow ex-yakuza who knew his parents in their blood and gore filled glory days, Illumi did have to think twice about what they were asking. Whether he was going to become the next Zeno Zoldyck or Silva Zoldyck, and not the kind that teachers judo for a living.

  
Illumi handed an entry form back to a man with tattoo sleeves on his arms. The tattoos encompassed fire breathing dragons and koi fish and fire breathing dragons with tattoos of koi fish.

  
The man stuffed his entry form into the pocket inside his jacket. He narrowed his eyes and his forehead creased. “If you ever need any connections, I have them.”

  
Illumi blinked. “That won’t be necessary. Enjoy your beginner ballet class.” The thug took his pair of flat ballet slippers and waltzed into class. Oh yes, recently Silva expanded the dojo so that it can take on a larger variety of classes—including ballet. Ballet was very popular amongst preschool girls and surprisingly among ex-yakuza thugs as well.  
Illumi sighed as he leaned his chin along the table. He blew a strand of hair out of his face. Working at the dojo was so boring, and he didn’t even get paid. His eyes drifted towards the window directly opposite from him. He saw cars pass by, people walking along the wide walk living their best lives (possibly), he saw a woman holding a very fluffy white cat.

  
Then, as if all the stars in the universe aligned. He saw him—Oz. He was wearing a denim jacket with black skinny jeans, there was even a shooting star print on his jacket. So Oz was the type of person to pop his collar. It felt like an otherworldly experience seeing a classmate outside of school, out of their uniform.

  
Illumi’s heart began to beat fast, thrashing against his chest. He did what any person would do upon seeing their crush outside of school.

  
Illumi ducked behind the counter, hiding. If he wasn’t going to be brave, there was no shame in being a coward. He wondered if Oz noticed him? Illumi slowly peeked his head over the counter, inch by inch, and saw that Oz walked right by the dojo. Illumi sighed as he leveled himself back onto his chair, content that he was unnoticed. It was just a coincidence. Maybe now his heart could return to its normal heart rate.

  
Oz walked by the window frame again and Illumi once again, being the coward like he was, ducked behind the counter. Why did Oz walk by again? Maybe Illumi should just live under the counter a little while longer and avoid any more surprises to come.

  
Illumi waited a solid three seconds before peeking over the counter.

  
Oz waited to him. Smiling on the other side of the glass. Waving.

  
Shit. Illumi sheepishly waved back and pretended he dropped a nonexistent paper clip on the floor. He placed the nonexistent paper clip back into the black pencil jar. He tried not to look like he was panicking even though he was internally screaming as he placed a stack of papers in front of him to do some clerical work and hoped Oz wouldn’t think he was too big of an idiot.

  
Oz held up his hands (which held plastic grocery bags) in a gesture that said, wait one minute I have a brilliant idea. Illumi quirked up an eyebrow, confused by what Oz meant when the boy rapidly walked out of the window frame and disappeared.

  
Only to return bobbing his head front and back while walking across the sidewalk as if he was walking down a staircase, more and more of him disappearing from the bottom with every step he took. After he walked down, he mimicked walking up the staircase!

  
Illumi couldn’t hold in his laughter, not even when Oz accidentally walked into the lady with the very fluffy cat. The cat pounced on him full of fiery and rage and sharpened claws. Oz retreated into the dojo, unscathed by the cat’s attack. The sound of shifting plastic took precedence in the dojo. “Hi.” Oz said.

  
“Hi.” Illumi wondered why Oz was even here to begin with. It looked like he went shopping. “So…do you come here often?” Why did Illumi even have a mouth if he was going to sound stupid? Oz has clearly never been here before, otherwise Illumi would have a severe history of angina.

  
Oz shifted where he stood. “Yeah, I was just in the neighborhood, by seventy blocks or so. Uh, sorry. I’m trying to think of a better excuse.” Oz shook his head, was he flustered? “My mom sent me out to pick up some ingredients for her next order. Sugar pearls. Truffle oil. Gold foil.”

  
“What is your mom making?”

  
“A sweet sixteen birthday cake.”

  
Illumi nodded, appreciatively. Oz did mention that his mother owned a bakery.

  
“Your family runs a dojo? That’s pretty cool.”

  
“I guess, but how did you know?”

  
“Well, from the sign outside I could infer that this was in fact Zoldyck Martial Arts dojo and I only know one Zoldyck.” Oz gave Illumi a snazzy gesture of finger guns. “It was elementary my dear Watson.”

  
“Excellent deductive reasoning, Holmes.”

  
“Oh,” Oz reached into his pocket and pulled out a flyer. The design featured the name of a rock band surrounded with silhouettes of ghostly apparitions, Spectral. “I was wondering if you were going to go to the spring concert at school? I’m in a band and the guys and I are going to participate in the concert this year.”

  
Illumi took the flyer and thought how amazing it was that Oz was already participating in so many activities in school considering he has only been here no more than a year. Illumi has been enrolled in Hunter Prep since kindergarten and he still doesn’t know all the names of the kids in his class. To be fair, his classmates knew all the rumors about the Zoldycks better than himself. Illumi really wanted to see Oz’s performance, but his father most likely wouldn’t let him, especially not after the argument they had last night anyway. “Sorry, but I think I’ll be working here during the concert.”

  
Oz looked a little disappointed, or at least that’s what Illumi imagined.

  
Illumi asked, quickly. “What do you guys play?”

  
“Just cover songs. Ye old classic rock and roll.” Oz mimicked an air guitar.

  
“Do you play an air guitar?” Illumi gestured.

  
“A real one. I suck at air.”

  
Illumi was about to the hand the flyer back, no matter how much he wanted to keep it, but Oz gestured for him to keep it. Suddenly, Silva appeared in the hallway. His steps boomed against the floor almost like a dragon stalking its prey, ready to plunder a town.

  
“Illumi,” Silva noticed Oz, the boy in the denim and star print jacket and just stared at him.

  
Illumi coughed. “Father, this is Oz. A classmate from school.”

  
Oz smiled and extended his hand to shake Silva’s. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

  
Silva shook Oz’s hand with a heavy grip, “Silva. So it is.” His voice was just as heavy. “I hope my son isn’t causing you trouble.” Illumi felt his insides curdle and he had the spontaneous urge to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself within it.

  
Oz blinked, then he laughed lightly. “Far from it. He’s a great friend of mine.”

  
Friend? Illumi was Oz’s friend now? Illumi wondered whether Oz meant it or not, or he said it to be polite to Silva. Illumi appreciated the remark, but he did wonder if Oz would only see him as that guy he hung out with after school for a while or that guy who makes killer egg salad. Would Oz see him as anything more than that?

  
Oz bid the father and son goodbye and went to deliver the extra cake ingredients back to his mother.

  
Silva opened and closed his palm, “boy has a strong grip. His name is Oz?”

  
“It’s short for Oswald.”

  
Silva nodded. “He seems like a very nice boy.”

  
“He really is.” A part of Illumi felt elated that Silva even said that much—but he knew not to get his hopes up.

  
Silva walked back to his class. He stepped out for far too long. His voice was gruff, “He better not be a distraction. Your main priority is school. If you wish to make friends, make them after you graduate.”

  
Illumi was motionless, ever after his father left the lobby. He folded his arms and leaned on his desk, motionless. He finished all his paperwork, the lobby was empty, but all he did was stay there, silent and motionless.  
 

* * *

  
_They snickered all around him._

  
_Oz sat in the second row from the back. What a mistake that was. He should have sat in the back of the room. With the coats and bags._

  
_The boy behind him kept kicking his seat. Pushing against the metal legs of his chair. Oz ignored it. Oz stared down at his paper and pen, ignoring it. Gritting his teeth._  
_The boy shoved him right in his back, dead center. The teacher didn’t notice, their back turned against the classroom, writing on the chalkboard. There wasn’t any point in telling the teacher either—they didn’t do anything to help. Oz ignored the kicks and continued to stare at the clock; counting down the minutes till the big hand struck three. Time was cruel; it was moving so slow today._

  
_The boy struck him once more, it felt like Oz’s back was going to break. Oz counted down the minutes till the big hand struck three. Every day, from the morning to afternoon, he counted down the minutes of the clock, every day. When it finally did, he was the first one out of the room._

  
_He didn’t come back to school the next day, or the one after._

  
_He only laid in bed day after day, silent and motionless._

  
_“Oz. Oswald, honey.” His mother gently brushed his black hair, sitting beside him on his bed. “You need to get up. You have to go to school. Please.”_

  
_Oz did not answer. He did not talk. He could not talk. He only laid in bed, silent and motionless._  


* * *

  
Illumi could not go to the Spring Concert. He had to work at the dojo and watch over his siblings. This did not surprise him.

  
Illumi missed Oz and his band, Spectral, perform at the concert. He heard from others, from conversations floating in the hallway, that the performance garnered the attention of many girls throughout the school. The crowd beckoned for an encore and someone even confessed to Oz after the concert ended—he should have gone.

  
The locker room was packed as usual, and Illumi unpacked his backpack as per usual. He knew he had algebra II first period and then world history for second, he mentally checked off every book he needed for today, until someone patted him on the back.

  
“Good morning, Illumi.”

  
Illumi blinked. He had no idea who this person was, he first thought it was Oz, but the voice did not register. Before he could ask the person walked away, out of site. Illumi closed his locker and thought nothing of it.

  
“Good morning, Illumi!” A girl ran by him in the hallway, waving. Again, he had no idea who she was and again the unidentified student ran away from him before he could ask who they were.

  
“Yo, Illumi my man, what’s up.” Another student said.

  
“Hi Illumi!” Yet another called to him.

  
All throughout the day people, who he has never talked to once in his life, started coming up to him and greeting him. And they were all smiling, at him? They weren’t cowering in fear or avoiding his gaze, they were actually looking him directly in his eye sockets. What parallel dimension did Illumi accidentally slip into? If anyone had anything to do with this paranormal experience, he knew just the person who did it. Not one, but two. That damn clown and goon. Illumi found them on the rooftop. Once again, Hisoka was lounging on the metal bleachers and Chrollo was reading a book, Illumi didn’t care to look at the cover. He approached them head on.  
Illumi’s voice boomed. “Is this another game of yours?”

  
“We have lives of our own, Illumi. Our lives don’t center around yours.” Chrollo drawled, reading his book.

  
“Egotistical much.” Hisoka lulled.

  
Chrollo sighed. “Look what you did now. You made me lose my line.”

  
Illumi rolled his eyes. “You both enjoy toying with my life.”

  
“True. It’s my favorite past time.”

  
Hisoka sung, raising his pack of gum in the air. “Likewise.”

  
“So, you both admit to it.”

  
“Whatever are you talking about?” Chrollo turned the yellow tarnished page of his book. He was just getting to his favorite part, the part in which what made the book banned.  
Hisoka chimed. “The impossible happened. People started speaking to Illumi.”

  
Chrollo raised an eyebrow. “That is the impossible.”

  
Hisoka sat up, “and no one is crying either!”

  
Chrollo lowered his eyebrow. This revelation was shocking, but not newsworthy. “You wouldn’t have to ask me if I was responsible behind this stunt. You’ve known me long enough to know whether a prank does or doesn’t have my signature. This is obviously the work of an amateur. I’m hurt by your accusation.”

  
Chrollo was right, his rumors and games take on a more sinister tone compared to this, relatively nice and simple, stunt.

  
Illumi skipped out on class and made his way to the soccer field. He saw Oz running laps around the field, surrounded by other students. He was able to pin point Oz out of the crowd, and not just because Oz was shirtless—and gorgeous. Illumi took extra precautions and made sure not to directly look at Oz’s abs. What where they even made of? Steel? Stone? Because they were sculpted to perfection that even Michelangelo would approve of—Illumi shoved away all these thoughts as Oz jogged up to him across the field. A field no longer separated them, only a metal fence. Illumi diverted his eyes away from Oz and his glistening (and finely) sculpted abs. Usually, running was supposed to make people look like a chaotic mess, but it made Oz look like a model who just went for a light run on the beach while simultaneously having a photoshoot. Beautiful people were truly the world’s greatest phenomenon. If there was ever a legitimate science of attractiveness, Oz would be the theory to prove its validity.

  
Oz smiled, smugly. “Good morning, Illumi.”

  
Illumi dared to not look down Oz’s eyes. “You did this.”

  
Oz simply shrugged, “Yup.”

  
“That was an easy confession.”

  
“I have nothing to hide. I am innocent. At the spring concert, I told everyone on stage that they should be nicer to you and now they are.”

  
Illumi face palmed himself.

  
“You’re welcome.”

  
“Seriously, Oz. You don’t know what you are getting yourself into. People think this is all a joke. That I’m a joke.”

  
Oz’s smile faltered. His hand gripped the wired fence, gray wires folding over other gray wires into diamond shapes. His hand was so close to Illumi’s, only a few centimeters apart. “I told you people just had to get to know you and they would love you, and they do. Isn’t this what you wanted? Didn’t you want friends?”

  
“Why do you think that is what I want?”

  
Oz paused as he shrugged his shoulders. He heard coach Ging yell at some students to run more laps. “You seemed lonely.”

  
So that was it. Oz pitied him.

  
Illumi scoffed. “You haven’t been here at Hunter Prep long enough to know what people really think.” Illumi softened his voice. “And no one loves me.”

  
Oz looked back at the field. He should really get going. “What, you mean those rumors? Screw rumors, Illumi. All those things people said, I know they’re not true because I know the real you. Other people should know the real you too. And the real you is my favorite you.”

  
“To tell you the truth, I really don’t like him. He’s a prick.”

  
Oz snorted then cleared his voice. “Y’know, Illumi. You couldn’t be more wrong. I honestly think you’re a smart guy, but I didn’t think you were so dense. There are people here, right here in this city, who love you.”

  
Illumi gripped his hand around the metal wires of the fence. The wind whistled through the trees and he forced himself to be brave. “Fine, I’ll admit it. I’m dense as a rock. So, you’ll have to tell me.” Illumi whispered. “Who?”

  
Oz ignored his coach calling out to him. His breathing consumed his hearing and his heart rapped hard against his chest.

  
“Who loves me?” Illumi repeated, softly. The golden light of the afternoon sun blazed bright that day, shadows of shifting leaves were cast on their faces and bodies, forever recording a place in their memories. They were centimeters apart and yet they were only separated by a metal fence. Oz’s pinky finger touched the edge of Illumi’s. Slow. Hesitant. Waiting for the other to speak when neither could form the right words.

  
Then coach called Oz again.

  
Oz scorned himself for what he did next—he released his hand from the fence and backed away. “I’ll tell you. Tonight.”

  
Illumi stepped away from the fence. “Great. I’m looking forward to it.”

  
Oz jogged back. “I’ll text you the details later.”

  
“Fucking-fantastic.”

  
“It’s a date, loser.”

  
Illumi, too, left the metal fence. He was furious as he was elated. Oz was the insufferable ringleader that somehow erased everyone’s fear of him—but he was he same insufferable fool Illumi has a date with tonight.

  
Illumi could only make it to the side of the building, slumping his back against a concrete wall when the realization of the situation finally set into his head.

  
He has a first date tonight.

  
How the hell is going to get past his father?  
 

* * *

  
_Hunter Prep was a paradise compared to Oz’s previous school. No one bothered him. No one tormented in class or picked fights with him in the locker room or shoved his clothes in the toilet. He made friends. Actual friends he enjoyed spending time with, and there was even a boy who caught his attention. The boy with obsidian hair that fell like a river of black over his shoulders and eyes that embodied the lore of foggy afternoons over the lush hills and valleys of the countryside. Mystery and beauty. When Satotz paired him and Illumi together to set up for the Spring Concert, Oz couldn’t have been happier. Before, he didn’t have the nerve to speak to Illumi. He was too nervous and afraid he’d say the wrong thing and look like a fool. Although, he almost worked up the courage to talk to Illumi once while he caught Illumi studying in the library. Illumi was seated a table, he was the only one there, writing in his notebook in one hand and flipping through a textbook with the other. Oz breathed and worked up the courage to walk towards Illumi in a bee line—but quickly turned around in a fluid motion right when he thought Illumi sensed his presence and felt like a coward the rest of the day and whined into his pillow about his cowardice that same night. But setting up for the spring concert gave him an excuse to talk with Illumi._

  
_Oz made his way to the music room, already heading there minutes in advance. Possibly before Illumi came. That was the plan. Oz wouldn’t have to worry about making an awkward entrance that way._

  
_Suddenly his phone began to sing._

  
_He stopped in front of the music room and picked his phone out of his pocket._

  
_He cursed under his breath after the reading the caller ID. Oz ended up arriving to the music classroom early, but the calls wouldn’t stop coming. Anxiety got the best of him and he left the room and answered the call in an empty classroom. It was Lydia. A classmate from his previous school. And she was crying on the other side of the phone. Bawling. Whimpering. Oz could hear the snot dripping from her nose._

  
_Oz spent too much time trying to calm Lydia down. Trying to coo her with gentle words and tell her that everything would be alright._

  
_“Oz, is it my fault you left the school?” Lydia cried, harder._

  
_Oz shushed her quietly. “No, no Lydia. You’re not the reason I left. It’s alright. Everything’s okay.”_

  
_“It is my fault! When they bullied you, I didn’t do a damn thing to stop it!”_

  
_Oz didn’t respond to that statement because Lydia was right. She knew what was going on and didn’t stop the boys from bullying him. She didn’t even try…She laughed with them at times too. But what could she do? Oz didn’t want those bullies targeting Lydia too…_

  
_“Lydia…they don’t bother you or anyone else now, do they?”_

  
_“No.” Lydia blew her nose. “After you left, the boys quieted down and all they do now is drink cheap bear behind the bleachers in the football field.”_

  
_“That’s good…”_

  
_Silent consumed the call._

  
_“I miss you,” Lydia’s voice broke._

  
_Oz sighed. Exasperated. “Please don’t start this again. Please.”_

  
_“But Oz—”_

  
_“I’m not going back to that hell hole.” Oz raised his voice, barely. “You saw how they treated me every day. I was a joke to them. They made my life miserable. No one, not even you, dared to lift a finger to help. Only the art teacher noticed anything…she let me hide in her classroom when I couldn’t handle being in the cafeteria with them.” That’s when Oz took up drawing even when he had no to little talent for it. Drawing designs of stars was simple enough for him and relaxed him when he felt the world around him was collapsing. “I’m sorry Lydia, but I have to be somewhere right now.” He checked the time and he was immensely late. Fuck._

  
_Oz shoved his phone into his pocket and headed straight for the music room. Some first impression he was going to make on Illumi. No doubt Illumi was going to hate his guts for being late. Oz stopped in front of the music doors and slowed down upon hearing music. Beautiful music that lulled him into a trance that made his worries wash away. It was a guzheng. Oz stood outside the door, listening to the music being played. How wonderous it sounded in that glorious spring afternoon. Oz felt his cheeks burning when he peeked through the window and saw Illumi plucking away at the strings._

  
_When the music finally stopped, Oz cleared his throat and breathed. Shaking away his nervousness. He entered the music room. “I’m sorry I’m late, something urgent came up and…”_  
 

* * *

  
‘Meet me at the bridge at 9 PM.’ The text message read. There was no way Illumi was going to miss out on this. He had enough of his father’s rule over his life. It was about time Illumi gave himself the freedom he deserved.

  
The little ones were put to sleep already, against Killua’s wishes (the kid could stay up past midnight and Illumi blamed it on all the candy Killua eats), and Silva was teaching night classes at the dojo as per usual. If anyone in the home knew Illumi left, or were to leave, they would notify Silva immediately. Illumi couldn’t have that.

  
Illumi was going to break out of his room through his bedroom window and if anyone were to catch him, he would say he warded off a robber that was trying to break in.  
Illumi slowly opened his window and put one leg through it.

  
“Illumi.”

  
Illumi froze in place. His eyes slowly made their way to the door, where Killua stood rubbing his eyes. He looked very sleepy. He held a stuffed animal of a fox under his arm, which bore the name Elodea. He treated the stuffed animal as if it were his own son.

  
“I want a glass of water.” Killua yawned. “…and ice cream.”

  
“I’m busy.” Illumi said. Let still through the open window.

  
Killua blinked, forgetting about how parched he was. “What are you doing?”

  
“…A robber tried to break into my room, and I’m going to go bring them to justice.”

  
Killua’s eyes glittered with pure joy (and so did little Elodea’s). “Can I go beat them up with you?”

  
“…I didn’t say I was going to beat them up.”

  
“But you were thinking it!” Killua stomped his foot on the ground, he wanted to go beat up robbers too, Illumi shouldn’t have all the fun.

  
“Killua,” Illumi sighed. “Go back to sleep and don’t make any more noise or else you’re going to wake up the whole house. Got it.”

  
Oh no. Illumi shouldn’t have said that. He knew that Killua only responds to reverse psychology. Killua narrowed his eyes, bitterly. If Killua was forced to go to bed without having fun, then no one else in the house was entitled to have a good night’s rest. Killua sucked in a giant gulp of air into his lungs—and screamed. “AAHHHHHHH!!! GREAT-GRANDFATHER!! ILLUMI IS TRYING TO BREAK OUT OF THE HOUSE TO BEAT UP ROBBERS WITHOUT ME!!”

  
Sometimes Illumi thought that his life would be easier as an only child—this was one of those sometimes he thought about such things.

  
Maha Zoldyck slid into Illumi’s room in a heartbeat.

  
Illumi stuttered. “Great-grandfather, why are you up so late at night?” Illumi quickly narrowed his eyes, scornfully. “You told me you couldn’t walk.”

  
“There is no time for lollygagging!” Maha yelled, ignoring Illumi clearly calling him out on his blatant ‘I am unable to walk’ lie. Now, it was true that Maha couldn’t walk during the first few weeks after his arrest many years ago, but he soon healed after that. But how could Maha say no to walk in meals brought on trays and sponge baths by his lovely grandson? Tsubone wasn’t going to do any of that for him. She forced him to get his own meals. Maha didn’t take any of that.

  
“You can get your food by yourself from now on…and give yourself your own sponge baths!”

  
Maha stepped back on his very healthy and walkable legs. He held a hand up to his chest. How dare his grandson say something so hurtful! Maha gripped his hand into a fist, “there is no time for talking about things of unimportance! The robber is going to get away if we keep talking!”

  
Illumi rolled with it. “Yes, and that is why I should leave right now. You watch over everyone while I’ll take care of the perpetrator.”

  
Steam hissed out of Maha’s nose. This was just like the good old yakuza days when gore and blood doused the streets and enemies cowered at his feet. This was all so exciting! Maha zipped in and out of the room in a flash, bringing back an article of importance. Maha tossed Illumi a bat. “You said you were going to bring the robbers to justice. So here is my bat, Justice. Remember, if you want to hurt them bad, strike between the eyes. If you want to make them cry, strike in the groin.”

  
“…I’ll remember that.”

  
“I recommend making them cry first.” Maha’s eyes glittered as he gave Illumi a double thumbs up.

  
Killua yelped. “YEAH, MAKE THEM CRY!”

  
“…Thank you, everyone. Please, don’t tell father about this.”

  
“Of course not! Silva is a stickler for anything that’s fun, entertaining, or legally incriminating. My lips are sealed, and so is Killua’s.”

  
“That’s right!” Killua nodded.

  
“I’m going now. Bye.”

  
Maha waved goodbye to Illumi as made his way out the window to beat up some robbers, not knowing his great-grandson was actually going on his very first date! Well, if things went wrong, the bat would still come in handy. Maha bent down to Killua’s height and smiled a wrinkly grin.

  
Killua tugged on the ends of his sleeves with Elodea snug in his arms. “I thought you said you couldn’t walk.”

  
“Enough about trivial details.” Maha said, smiling kindly. “Since we are both up, why don’t we play a game? It’s called ‘help great-grandfather escape the house without his parole officer knowing.’”

  
“I love this game!” Killua exclaimed. They’ve played this game so many times, but silly Gotoh always wins.

  
“Me too.” A low voice growled behind Maha. It was Gotoh, Maha’s parole officer. Sweat drenched down Maha’s forehead as he immediately explained that it was just a joke and that he had no intention of escaping or tying up Gotoh using a very thick rope, gagging him, and stuffing him in the broom closet. That was just an absurd plan. Very absurd.  
 

* * *

  
Illumi tossed the bat into the front bushes of the house. He really wasn’t going to be needing it. First, he walked, but then he ran. He couldn’t wait to get to Oz. He wanted to see him, that’s all he wanted to do since they parted ways at the soccer field.

  
Illumi was finally at Whale Island bridge, and under the lamp post, he saw him, the boy with the crown of midnight—Oz.

  
Illumi called out to him and Oz turned his head and waved.

  
Finally, they stood face to face. Two beating hearts incapable of slowing down. The artificial light of the lamp post shined above them as moths flocked against the glass bulb. The only melody that sung for them was the thrum of cicada wings and the sound of cars passing by. The grass field off the side of the bridge was their stage, the liquid river of midnight was their curtains, and the stars above them was their audience. And they were ready to perform.

  
Oz thrusted his hands into his pockets. “Hi.”

  
Illumi’s heart was stuck in his throat. “Hi.” He returned back.

  
“Are you hungry?”

  
“Oh no, I’m fine.”

  
“I ended up skipping dinner—

  
“I’m starving.”

  
Oz snorted at the quick answer. Then he pulled out a tin can, it was painted with apples and grapes and bananas, from his pocket. “I’ll I have are hard candies.”

  
They sat beneath the light of the lamp post, gorging themselves on hard candies. Candies that quickly dissolved in their mouths. Leaving their mouths tingling with sugar. For a moment, silence overcame them as they wathced the boats cross the river and back, lights flashing, yellow and red and green. They could barely make out the flags blowing in the wind. The river lead to the ocean and even though they were far away, they imagined they could smell the faint aroma of salt. They imagined the shells and sand and waves that came with the sea. But the river in front of them, currents of water that reflected the night sky, the stars peaking through the darkness and the moonshine reflecting its brilliant silver light on top of the shifting black waters—it was more beautiful than any ocean.

  
Illumi and Oz sat next to each other, side by side, as they stole faint touches from the other. Their arms and their legs accidentally touching. No apologies were needed.  
Oz finished off a red candy, it tasted like strawberries. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable about what happened at school. It’s just—you didn’t like those rumors and neither did I. So, at the spring concert, I told everyone to give you a chance.”

  
“It’s scary how much influence you have because of your popularity,” Illumi deadpanned. Illumi thought that if Oz asked someone at the school to donate a kidney for him, he’d have a whole line of donors ready to make a charitable donation.

  
“Not really.” Oz puffed his cheeks. “People at this school happen to be really good listeners to the truth. Not to mention they’re extremely nice.”

  
“I like to call them oblivious, but okay.”

  
Oz gazed into the water and watched the stars shift and change shape in the currents. “I could tell that those rumors bothered you and to tell you the truth, I can relate. I’m not sure if you know this—although I meant to still keep it to myself, but you I trust—I transferred to Hunter Prep because I was bullied in my previous school. Had to leave because I couldn’t take it anymore. Wait, what’s with that look on your face?” Oz laughed.

  
Illumi looked like he was about to murder someone. “Who are they? I’ll murder them.”

  
“So your reputation does proceed you.”

  
“I’m serious. I’ll end them.”

  
“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever suggested to me.” Oz held a hand over his heart. Truly touched.

  
“You are literally the kindest person in the entire school, everyone loves you, I lo—you’re my best friend. What kind of lowlife would treat you that way?”

  
Oz shook his head, somberly. “Bullies don’t need a reason to be cruel.” Monsters are only fluent in the language of roars. They do not respond to right or wrong. Justice or crime. They only stop when they are stopped. Oz told Illumi some of his experiences at his previous school. His uniform being shoved into the toilet of the boy’s bathroom and a lot of harassment he received from the boys in his class. The stakes escalated a little at a time, stunts became more vicious and crueler, and boys joined in without even knowing what was happening and not personally knowing Oz. Apparently, it all started because Oz befriended his classmate’s girlfriend—Lydia—and the girlfriend had feelings for a particular boy that wasn’t her boyfriend—needless to say jealously rapidly ensued in said boyfriend. But jealousy didn’t condone harassing a classmate until they couldn’t bare to return to school.

  
Illumi looked like was going to wreak havoc, which in of itself was a declaration of love. “I have a bat named Justice.”

  
“I chose my best friend well. You’re literally my champion of Justice.”

  
Illumi smiled when Oz did. It brought him joy when Oz was smiling. “It belonged to my great-grandfather. Actually, I threw it into the bushes in front of my house before coming here.”

  
“Wait what.”

  
“My great-grandfather thinks I’m beating up a robber senselessly and doing other legally incriminating activities right now.”

  
Oz snapped his fingers. “And I was just in the mood for some legally incriminating activities.”

  
Illumi patted his head. “You’re a good boy, inside and out.”

  
“Say that again when I’m holding Justice.”

  
“Eat your candy. When he said it, he sounded very proud of me. Albeit, that is the only time he ever was. I think he wanted to come along too.”

  
Oz snorted. “Your family really is a yakuza family.”

  
“Ex-yakuza family. We take pride in the Ex part now, everyone except great-grandfather though.”

  
“That explains why he still has Justice.”

  
“It really does.” They laughed together.

  
Oz’s eyes softened. “Before we met, I’ve seen you around school before. Always silent and reserved with those cold eyes of yours. I’ve always wondered what you were thinking behind that expression of yours. Were you sad? Happy? Lonely? But that expression of yours, what laid beyond your eyes.” Oz clenched his hands together. “You reminded me of myself. You were lonely too, weren’t you.”

  
Illumi crossed his arms over his knees and rested his head within them. He nodded, silently. He was lonely. Very lonely. In the distance, over the river of liquid sapphires, there was a pair of lone butterflies. Each with a pair of light blue, mirror wings. Each shimmering blue stardust over the water, reflecting the stars above.

  
“To be honest, I thought I cared what people thought of me. Actually, for a while I did. My family has always been—perceptive of what the media says about us. Guess I got it from them. But it doesn’t make sense to care for other people’s opinions about myself who are no more than strangers to me. Laying low and not getting involved was the easiest thing for me to do. I don’t care what other people think of me anymore, ever since you came into my life.” He lowered his voice to a bare whisper and forced the words to come out even when he didn’t have the courage to say them. He wasn’t brave, but he had to do this. He burrowed his head, avoiding Oz’s eyes. “I only care what you think of me. You’re the first person who’ve I ever felt this way with—you’re precious to me.”

  
“Illumi.”

  
Unbeknownst to the world, there were certain ways to stop time, and one of them included being called by the person you loved. It felt as if time stopped and yet the cicadas were still thrumming, the cars were still driving by, the moths were still flying in the lamp’s light—their hearts were still beating, their blood was still pulsing, their bodies still touching—coming closer together. Fabric upon fabric caressing against the other. Light and tender and deliberate. No apologies were needed. Their breaths mingled, and their lips were centimeters apart. The distance was slowly closing. Their faces still blushing, deepening in color. Illumi’s eyelashes lowered as Oz tucked a strand of black hair behind his ear—and his hand lingered there behind his head. Their lips were so close.

  
And then they touched.

  
Their lips were soft and moist—and sugary from all the candy they have eaten. Their first kiss together tasted like strawberries. The kiss was slow. Their lips parting and closing. Breaths mingling. Even though the world was still moving, time itself felt like it stopped. They only focused on each other. Ever since they first met, they couldn’t stop thinking about each other.

  
Oz opened his mouth and Illumi quickly followed. Their tongues slid against the other, pushing and shoving and exploring. Soon, Illumi was on his back, his hand clenching the back of Oz’s shirt. Their mouths were caught between the rhythm of parting and closing. Parting and closing. Parting and closing. Again and again. Pushing and pulling. Begging and moaning. Sighing and breathing.

  
They kissed one last time before the light of the lamp post flickered off completely, drenching them in darkness. They used the light from their phones to guide their way home—hand in hand.

  
Oz’s eyes softened, “I’m happy we both came into class late that day.”

  
“Why is that?”

  
“Because that’s when Satotz paired us up to work together and that’s how we got to know each other.”

  
“Everything that’s happened to us…is because of Satotz. I really did not expect that from him.”

  
“He’s a fucking brilliant matchmaker.”

  
“Everything that happened was unintentional on his part, but yeah, I guess.” Illumi held Oz’s hand, it warm and kind—he felt loved.

  
They kissed each other one last time, long and slow.

  
Oz moaned into their kiss. “I miss you already.”

  
Their lips parted and brushed against the other. Hands intertwined. Illumi whispered. “I haven’t even left yet. You’ll see me tomorrow.”

  
“I’m missing you for all the times I wasn’t with you and for all the times I could have been with you and I wasn’t.” Words muffled between their lips. “I’m so horrible.”  
Illumi cupped Oz’s cheeks. “You’re the very best.”

  
Oz blushed.

  
“Goodnight, Oz.” Illumi kissed him, soft and sweet. One last time. They parted ways, their steps walking further away.

  
Suddenly, Oz turned around and shouted to the night sky. “I HAVE THE BEST BOYFRIEND EVER! GOODNIGHT, ILLUMI!” And then he ran off, leaving Illumi to feel light on his feet and his heart was ready to combust. Illumi leaned against the metal gates of his home. The world was big. The world was quiet. Most of all, the world was beautiful. Illumi looked up into the stars and he knew they spoke the truth.  
  

* * *

  
Oz could practically dance home. That smile on his face wouldn’t dare falter as he recounted the evening. Remembering the moment that made him the happiest he has ever felt in months.

  
He was alone, walking along that street plaza at night. Walking along the old antique store he window shopped with Illumi. He thought about bringing cookies from the bakery in tomorrow to surprise Illumi.

  
It was dark and Oz couldn’t see the old sign above the antique store. The same sign that needed to be fixed. Swaying uneasily. Bolts loosening. Wind blowing fiercely.

  
It was dark when Oz didn’t see the sign fall.

  
It was dark when he last thought of Illumi.

  
It was dark when he saw nothing.

  
It was dark.

  
And then there was nothing.  
 

* * *

  
Epilogue

  
Illumi walked to school that morning, but he stood frozen in front of the sign that fell from the antique store from the night before. It was horrible, it was agonizing, it was—  
“Good morning, Illumi!” Oz called to him. Swiping Illumi’s hand in his own and giving him a good morning kiss. “Watcha looking at?”

  
For a moment, Illumi’s mind went blank as he stared down at the fallen sign. “I can’t remember.”

  
Oz whistled. “It’s a good thing that sign didn’t fall on anyone. That could have seriously killed them.”

  
Illumi turned around, “I don’t have a reason to be sad anymore now that you’re here.”

  
“Hmm you were sad? I know how to make you feel better.” They kissed again and walked to school hand in hand.

  
Oz smiled. “I packed some cookies from the bakery, want to share them with me in homeroom. If you’re nice I’ll let you have one with sprinkles. They’re your favorite, right?”  
Illumi was (almost) moved to tears. A boyfriend who kissed him and loved him and brought him cookies? Hands down, he had the best boyfriend. Ever.

  
It was when they were holding hands did Illumi notice something…off.

  
“Oz,” Illumi said, holding Oz’s hand. “Why are you so cold?”

  
Oz only smiled softly at Illumi. His blue eyes were cold and sad, yet he still smiled through them. In the distance, two butterflies flew in the sky, wings shimmering beneath the golden light of the sun. The butterflies soared high in the sky—until one was struck down. A bird tore its wings, split them in half and carried the butterfly away. Leaving the other butterfly to wander in the vast sky all alone. “Let’s hurry up before we’re late to class.”  
 

* * *

  
THE END


End file.
